


Chuck Versus Thin Ice

by SteampunkChuckster



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Alternate Universe - Sports, Curling, F/M, Sports, Winter Olympics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 105,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteampunkChuckster/pseuds/SteampunkChuckster
Summary: On the doorstep of the Olympics, top American curler Sarah Walker has lost her mixed doubles partner and her boyfriend in one fell swoop. Her coaches throw newbie Team U.S.A. curler Chuck Bartowski onto her team and thrust them into the Olympics, hanging America's curling hopes on two people who only have a short amount of time to learn to trust one another. AU. Non-canon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on Tumblr asked me which Winter Olympics sports I'd put the Chuck cast into. And that got me teasing with friends about writing a Winter Olympics Chuck AU. Frea O'Scanlin and I were talking and she said Chuck and Sarah doing mixed doubles curling. Let me tell you, I laughed so damn hard. Because, no joke, I spent five days whining and complaining that curling was the only Olympic sport being shown on TV all day. Like WHHYYY CURLING AGAINN AHHHHH I'm so BOOOREEED this is BORINNNNGGGGGGG. It's all over my social media for the first few days. And friggin' Frea comes in like "MAKE THEM CURL" and I was like "Oh shit this is happening." Now a few days later, I've been researching the hell out of mixed doubles curling...And here we are. So... ENJOY, I GUESS! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (walks away with a self-deprecating cackle)

She'd expected a mess when she first walked into her new home. But that wasn't what she'd found. Instead, there were empty boxes broken down and stacked to the side, his things neatly placed in the living room. She'd envisioned moving boxes just being everywhere, to the point where she couldn't even walk anywhere without tripping. Maybe she'd trip on something, break her ankle, and have to opt out of the Olympics. Could broken ankles heal in eight weeks? Probably. Maybe she could tear a muscle instead.

Sarah Walker rolled her eyes at herself as she stepped inside and slowly shut the door behind her. She told her coaches she was prepared to do whatever she had to do. Getting onto the medals podium was such an incredible long shot for an American curling team. But if she could get close, if she could get to a better position than she had in the last few years with—

Shaking her head, she willed herself not to even think about that, about him. It still stung, but she thought it was mostly her pride. She knew it was mostly her pride. To have built up such a massive curling fanbase in the United States over the past few years, everyone obsessing over American's Curling Couple, rooting for them not only to win in their sport but also rooting for their relationship, their too-public-for-its-own-good relationship. He'd fed off of it. He'd loved it. But losing as often as they'd lost, never quite getting that success on the ice… The whole relationship was held up by the sport anyway, and when Bryce Larkin quit the sport, their break-up was soon to follow. At least he'd come to her about it first when he'd made the decision, and she hadn't been forced to find out about her own break-up from their "Lawker" Twitter fans.

Now the U.S. Curling Squad was wrecked, though, so screw Bryce Larkin.

And she was in the most uncomfortable, shittiest situation ever.

But at least she let the coaches know she wasn't happy about this. They knew she was angry. They knew she felt seriously put out. And luckily Diane had elbowed Langston before he could get out his "Harness that anger! Use it!" comment. He was such a clueless asshole, sometimes.

She heard muffled voices in another room, then.

And suddenly, before she could even gather herself for what was coming, still half-buried in her own mind as she was, there was a loud, "Yeah, it's in the trunk! I got it!" and a woman burst into the living room from the hallway.

She skid to a halt at seeing Sarah standing there, and her jaw dropped. "Oh my God. I'm sorry. If I knew you were here, I wouldn't have just yelled so loudly. You're Sarah."

Sarah just gaped for a second. And then she smiled tentatively. "Uh, yeah. Sarah Walker. Er…" Did her new partner have a girlfriend? Because if he did, Sarah wondered how that woman was going to handle him suddenly having to move in with his new mixed doubles partner. Their coaches were freaking insane, but—and she hated that she had to admit this—she saw the sense in it.

They were sticking two people on a team who hadn't trained together, had barely even interacted on the squad. They had eight weeks to get comfortable enough to compete at the highest level of the sport, in the Olympics for God's sake. They had to be comfortable butting heads, speaking plainly… No one was more comfortable butting heads than she and Bryce had been. They'd butt heads about everything, on and off the ice. And put on good faces for the press, for the fans, because it was good for business.

And in spite of everything, she was so glad that was over.

"Ellie."

"Oh, hi."

"Sorry, you probably don't know. I'm Chuck's sister. Ellie Bartowski."

Sarah inwardly laughed at herself. "Oh! I didn't know he had a sist—Wait." It all clicked then. She'd seen this woman before. "Do you ski?"

The pretty brunette finally came further into the room. "Yeah.""The one with the flags super close together, right? Um, is that alpine?"

"Slalom. I do GS, too." She looked a little embarrassed that she was recognized.

"Right. Sorry. That one. Wow. I can't believe I didn't put it together. Bartowski and Bartowski. Duh."

So Chuck's sister was also an Olympic athlete. The only reason she'd heard of Eleanor Bartowski was because they'd made such a huge deal about her just barely getting onto the podium in qualifying. She'd had to wait for a slew of other competitors to go before she found out. And she had qualified for her first ever Olympics at thirty years old.

"Man, they really just slammed you two together, didn't they? So freaking sudden and a little intense, am I right?" Ellie asked. Sarah widened her eyes and nodded. "I'm a big fan, by the way. I forced Chuck into this sport, but he's a lot nicer when he tells the story—says it was the best fit for him, but really, I forced him." She shrugged and backed to the hallway, yelling, "Chuck, Sarah's here!" over her shoulder. Sarah thought for a moment she'd heard a soft curse come from down the hall, but maybe she'd been hearing things. "Yeah, he has such a good brain for physics and angles and I really liked watching curling when I was training with my husband up in Lake Tahoe. Chuck said he was done with sports, and I made sure he wasn't done with sports. Because what are big sisters for, huh?"

Sarah smiled politely. "Yeah."

Before she could say anything else, Chuck himself popped out of the hallway, looking out of breath, disheveled. "Hi!" he practically gasped. "Hey. Sarah. Hi. Uh, welcome." He squinted in a wince. "To your own home. Heh. Sorry."

"Hi, Chuck." It was awkwardly quiet in the room, then. "How are you?"

"Good. I'm good. This place is really nice. If we gotta do this, at least we're in the lap of luxury, huh?" His sister turned to give him the flattest look Sarah'd ever seen in her life and she bit her cheek to keep from showing her amusement. He shrugged in response.

"Yeah, it looks pretty nice," she said, shrugged her bags off and dropping them by the door.

"Oh! Hey, you need help moving? I was gonna text you to ask if you needed a truck or a van or something, but Becks said they were taking care of everything."

Becks? Oh, God.

"I just rented a U-Haul, threw it all in and drove over here. I don't have a lot of stuff, really."

"Oh. Well, lemme help you."

"You help her, Chuck, and I'll get back to scrubbing that bathroom," Ellie said, ducking back into the hallway as Chuck crossed the room to join her at the door.

These two were a bit of a whirlwind, she found, and it was rather nice to be out of the apartment. Granted, one of the Bartowskis had come with her. But he was silent as they rode the elevator down. She felt a bit bad. They were both nice, and Eleanor Bartowski—Ellie, as she'd introduced herself—was apparently one of the best slalom skiers in the world. Not that this had any sort of effect on whether she was nice or not, but it helped a lot to make a person more tolerable if they had the accolades to back it up.

And she scoffed at herself silently as she realized that wasn't true.

Chuck followed her out to her U-Haul and slid open the back, setting up the ramp and climbing into the belly of the truck. "One sec," he said, pulling his phone out. He tapped at the screen a few times, typed something, then stuck it back into his jeans pocket. "Getting reinforcements."

"Oh, that's not…necessary."

"Nah, no worries. We'll get you unloaded in no damn time at all. Bartowski Moving Services, Incorporated." He smacked his chest where a name badge might be and grinned cheekily, before diving right in, starting to stack boxes at the lip of the truck.

Sarah found herself watching him for a moment. She'd only known him for a few months now, but she didn't know him well. Definitely not well enough to live with him. He had always seemed genuinely nice, funny, and a hard worker. So at least there was that. But she'd never curled with him in the last few months he'd been on the team, as busy as she'd been with her team of women and training with Bryce.

They went back and forth, carrying her belongings up to their apartment, smiling as they passed one another.

Between the two of them, they made inroads into furniture and clothes boxes, and about a half hour later, a car pulled up to the curb while she was out by the truck, grabbing another box. The man who got out was tall, blond, and built like freaking Adonis. He waved and grinned so big as he approached that she thought his face might split right in half.

"Hey!"

"Hiiii," she answered, unsure. But then he clambered up the ramp and grabbed a box. "Um…"

"Oh, crap! Sorry! I just figured Chuck told you I was comin'. I'm not some random dude grabbing your stuff out of the back of this truck." He actually was some random dude grabbing her stuff out of the back of her truck. Literally. "I'm Devon, your partner's bro-in-law." He set the box down carefully and outstretched his hand.

"Oh. You're married to Ellie, huh?" She took his hand and shook it. His grip was…intense, to put it lightly.

"Lucky me. Am I right?"

It was so sincere and sweet that she couldn't help grinning at him. "Yeah, you must be pretty proud, your wife going to the Olympics."

"You bet! The proudest!" he said as he grabbed the box and walked down the ramp again. As he started walking away, he tossed over his shoulder a nonchalant, "Really glad we both get to go together."

Sarah paused in a kneel, frowning. "What?"

But he'd already walked away.

It took a few hours to get all of Sarah's boxes unloaded and stacked in the living room and her bedroom, but eventually Sarah was left alone with Chuck and her boxes, Ellie and Devon having dashed off to meet with their respective coaches.

Sarah eyed the couch as Chuck walked into the living room from where he'd been in the bathroom. He had a bucket of cleaning supplies in his hand. He lifted it up for her to see as he came in. "So the bathroom is spotless finally thanks to the Awesomes."

"Awesomes? Didn't you tell me that's cross-country skier slash Olympian, Devon Woodcomb?"

He laughed. "Yeah, sorry." He shook his head. "I call him Captain Awesome." She made a face. "Well, because everything he does is awesome. Cross-country skiing—I mean the guy's leg muscles are insane. First time I saw him in those tight pants they wear, I was like holy shit, dude, your legs!"

"You call him Captain Awesome?"

"Yeah. I mean, he skydives, too. Rock climbing, rafting…flossing."

She couldn't help but laugh. "I'll probably stick to Ellie and Devon for now."

"I don't blame you."

"That was really nice of them to do that," she said. "I mean, they really didn't have to clean the bathroom." She halted for a moment, about to say our bathroom. Our apartment. Our bathroom.

"No, trust me. They did," he chuckled. "It was baaaaaad."

She just bit her lip and looked at the pile of boxes she now had to unpack. Silence pervaded the room, and things were awkward again, tense. She was starting to really regret this whole thing.

And then…

"This is really weird."

Sarah let out a long breath and laughed a little. There was a strange sense of relief in her as he confirmed this was weird for him, too. "Yeah, definitely not how I saw my last eight weeks before the Olympics."

"I'm sorry."

She huffed and shook her head. "Don't worry about it. We just have to make this work. We're literally all our team's got in this event."

"Yeah." He raised his eyebrows and set the bucket he held down at his feet, rubbing the back of his head a little uncomfortably. "I'm willing to do whatever is necessary."

"Me, too. I guess that's why we're both here."

"I guess so." He glanced at his watch. "Damn, I thought it was earlier. We meet with Becks and Graham in two hours."

"Shit." She slumped onto the couch and covered her face.

She heard him approaching. She moved her hands and looked up at him as he sat on the arm of the couch. "Becks and Graham?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, oh yeah, that's what I call them. Um, secretly. Don't tell Beckman. She'll crush my head with one of our rocks if she ever hears me call her Becks."

Sarah smirked and sat up, pushing the hair that escaped her braid during all of the heavy lifting from her face. "I suppose since you're the only curler in this country crazy enough to agree to do this with me, I should make sure our coach doesn't bludgeon you to death with our equipment."

"That means a lot. Thank you. I think this partnership will work out great, yeah."

She smirked and shook her head. "I'm gonna hop in the shower, then," Sarah said, climbing to her feet. "I guess since we're roommates now, we're carpooling to training, huh?"

"Yep. It'd be a waste of gas, otherwise."

She sighed with a nod. "All right. You don't need the bathroom for anything, do you?"

"No, it's all yours. I'm gonna set up the TV and Internet while you're doing that."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

"No worries! It's what I do." He smiled at her and she smiled back, ambling towards her bedroom, ignoring the piles of clothes and personal belongings everywhere, grabbing something comfortable to wear, and disappearing into the bathroom.

Once she was in the shower, she was feeling a bit more frustrated about all of this. It wasn't Chuck's fault, and he didn't seem all that bad to be around, but for their coaches to just decide this was the only way to get them to a place of familiarity and connecting, without even consulting either of their players, was absolutely ridiculous. She was willing to do what she had to do to win, or at least to win more than she had with Bryce, but uprooting her life in Chicago and moving to Northern California? This was insane. Who in California even knew what curling was, save the people who every so often turned on their televisions during the Winter Olympics? The curling world was in an uproar over the mess that was U.S. Curling ever since Bryce had quit and the "Curling Couple" split. The U.S. Curling Association was the laughingstock of the world and they weren't helping themselves by relocating their teams to California mere weeks before the Olympic games in Pyeongchang. Why? She had no freaking idea. But it was something her coaches agreed on, and she wasn't a quitter the way Bryce was. She was doing this if it killed her, damn it.

So here she was.

Living with her partner who'd only become her partner two weeks earlier. She'd maybe exchanged a few dozen words with him—if that—in the four months since he'd been pulled into the squad. Bryce made a stink about it when he'd been in tournaments on Chuck's team:

"Where'd this guy even come from?"

"Who's even heard of him?"

"He grew up in Los Angeles. Do they even know what winter is there?"

She didn't share her boyfriend's disdain of the newcomer. In fact, she'd been so focused on her own game, on her own team of women curlers and their competitions, that she hadn't paid their new member much mind. His team won enough…at least, more than she and Bryce had in mixed doubles, so who really cared when the guy had started curling, or where he'd grown up?

Anyway, screw Bryce Larkin.

He was garbage.

Her mom sent her a picture of Bryce and Becca Tamrin, one of Sports Illustrated's swimsuit models, together on a beach in Palm Beach, Florida. The caption read: "Half of America's Curling Couple seen in Palm Beach with model, Becca Tamrin. It's really over, folks!"

It was a pernicious and mean thing for her to think, and out of character for her, too, but she hoped Becca was the type of woman who bounced when she saw Bryce's sponsorships and the money they'd gotten him dry up now that he'd quit the sport. The sponsorships were already drying up, Langston had told her last week on the plane from Chicago. He'd flown with her, having made the big decision to move as well, along with Diane Beckman, the other head coach, and those who had qualified to head to the Olympics for the U.S. Curling Team.

But then she'd met with Chuck—Her New Partner—officially for the first time in a small conference room in a San Jose business building, and the first thing he'd said was, "I'm sorry about Bryce. A-About the thing with Bryce. I mean, that you two split. I mean the team splitting. I'm just sorry. This sucks and I'm sorry." It hadn't gone down too well, but she'd played it off with a "thanks" and had a cloud over her head for the rest of the meeting. He'd managed a one-eighty today, though, helping her out and having his family here to clean and move her boxes for her. He'd told her he had Ellie and Devon help him out yesterday so that all of his "crap" was put away, boxes cleared, because he wanted her to be able to have a clean slate for when she moved in today, without worrying about stepping over his stuff, or getting their belongings mixed up. It was very thoughtful.

He wasn't half bad.

But screw Bryce Larkin, anyway.

Sarah felt good about the way her mom had texted "Good riddance" after she sent the picture, but she hadn't felt good about seeing her ex with another woman in a decidedly more comfortable situation than she was currently in.

She was now stuck in an apartment with a man she didn't know at all. And they'd be forced over the next eight weeks to spend all of their time together. She hadn't been able to do that with Bryce and they'd been dating. And now they expected her to do it with this random guy who hadn't even been in the curling scene for half a year? This was absolute madness.

But she'd signed on for it.

She was on the train. There was no way to get off, even if she wanted to.

Or, for a more Titanic-esque reference…This was the only ship she had, so if it went down, she was going to have to go down with it.

She could always coach curling, or teach martial arts to kids, or…something.

But her freedom would be hampered now.

And that was going to really suck.

Even driving to and from training and meetings, just fifteen minutes of being alone in the car…She couldn't even have that now. They would carpool every day.

But she refused to let herself sink into a bad place. She wouldn't let the fact that her world had been flipped upside-down throw her off her course. Getting a mixed doubles medal in PyeongChang was such a long shot, getting a medal would be a long shot for all of Team U.S.A. Curling, honestly, but she wasn't ruling herself out.

She trusted herself to do the work, study, train, et cetera. But the real question was…could she trust her new partner? Could she trust Chuck Bartowski?

**-oooo-**

"Wait, really? I thought you were joking."

Diane Beckman stared at him in that way of hers, unblinking, her features unmoved, hands on her hips. "Bartowski, do I look like I'm joking to you?"

His crooked smile disappeared in a flash. "No, ma'am."

He heard the minutest of choking sounds behind him and thought maybe Sarah had just muffled a laugh at his expense.

"Get into position."

"I'm not trying to be contrary, Coach, but what does a trust fall have to do with curling?" Sarah asked. Chuck inwardly thanked her for the smidgeon of support. He was glad he wasn't the only one confused by this.

"I mean, figure skating? I get it. The entire sport is, like, one big long fancy trust fall," he added. "But curling is more of a brain thing."

Their coach nodded and crossed her arms. "Well, I've been curling since I was five years old. Do you know how long that is?"

"I'm not answering that."

He heard another quiet choking sound behind him.

"Long enough. Mixed doubles curling is a different ball game altogether. It's more physical. You have to be in much better shape than you are." Chuck smarted a bit at that. "More than anything, you're right that it's a brain game. But both your brains have to be on the exact same wavelength. You're a team. It's just going to be you two working those rocks. You need to know where you want that stone to roll and how fast once it hits. Sarah, what do you think you two need before your brains can be on the exact same wavelength?" Beckman asked.

"Um. Well…" Sarah's voice halted in her throat as she searched for an answer. He had to admit, he was a bit stumped as well. "Of course, the, er…first thing we'd both need before our brains get on the same wavelength is to, well, both have brains to begin with."

Beckman turned a heavy-lidded look on Sarah. "Jesus Christ, how did I end up with two Bob Hopes today? I know Bartowski's a goof, but I at least thought I could count on you."

"What's a Bob Hope?"

Both Chuck and Beckman spun to look at her with wide-eyes, jaws agape. Her blue eyes flicked back and forth between them, and then she raised her eyebrows. "That was a joke."

Chuck snorted and held a hand up. Smirking, she met his high five, a bit tentatively he noticed.

Their coach just groaned and shook her head. "Sarah…"

"Sorry," the younger woman said, and Chuck thought he could detect the sound of a smirk in her tone.

"The answer is trust. You need to trust one another. First, you need to trust one another with your bodies."

Chuck's brain quite nearly broke at the way she'd phrased that, and he could only hope it didn't show on his face.

"You know what I mean!" she snapped at him. So it had shown on his face. Woops. "The trust fall. Trust that when you fall Sarah will catch you. And vice versa," she directed at Sarah who was still standing behind him. "When you can trust one another with that, then you can start to trust one another's skills, talents, and most importantly, decisions. Chuck, you fall first."

He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Sarah really was behind him. And just to be sure, he asked, "You ready?"

"Yes. I've got you."

If anyone had told Chuck Bartowski two years ago that the woman he was watching gliding across the ice like some sort of majestic swan across the top of a lake—the deep concentration in her blue eyes that he could see even from the second row of the stands, the determined hard line of her lips, so totally unknown to him but already easily the greatest damn woman in the entire Universe—would end up standing behind him while their mixed doubles curling coach yelled for him to "JUST FALL, DAMN IT!", he'd laugh in their face. He truly would.

Shutting his eyes, he let himself tip backwards. It felt like eons before he felt the steady pressure of her arms beneath him, holding him up by his armpits. He heard a strained huff of air leave her lungs, but she didn't drop him or let go. Instead, she helped him scramble back up to his full height.

"Sarah?" Their coach gestured for Sarah to do the same.

Chuck felt like he owed her what she'd given him, so he positioned himself behind her with a sincere, "I've got you."

She fell and he caught her easily, helping her back up again.

"Switch off a few more times until you lose that jolt of terror you feel when you're falling, just before your partner catches you."

And as they went back and forth, Chuck thought about his accident two and a half years earlier, his jump gone terribly wrong, the way he'd run away from the sport of ski jumping, lost his drive for competition altogether. Ellie'd seen his lack of purpose, the depression starting to sink in, and she'd told him about curling, even dragged him to a bonspiel just outside of Chicago when they'd all gone to visit Devon's brothers. He'd been resistant to Ellie's assurance that his two-time U.S. chess championship winning brain was perfect for the game, but once he'd seen Sarah Walker in action, it had suddenly become a lot easier to be interested in curling.

Some people might call this kismet. But he just thought perhaps Sarah Walker had gotten a really shitty break. Maybe she did something wrong in her last life. Because now she was stuck here with him instead of with Bryce Larkin, the other half of America's Curling Couple that once was but wasn't anymore.

Not that Bryce was anything less than a rat bastard for abandoning not just the team but Sarah. And it wasn't just the whole romance part, either. He'd left her partnerless just under two months from the start of the Olympics. There was still one last bonspiel before the Olympics that started, and Bryce had just dashed off, left his responsibilities, and he could have dashed her Olympic dreams. Selfish prick.

"Uh, Chuck?"

He looked down to find her shining blue eyes staring up at him from where she was lying in his arms. "Oh! Sorry!" He lifted her to stand again and she turned to face him, giving him a dubious look that made him feel just a tad embarrassed.

"Well, my mind went somewhere else entirely while we were doing this, so apparently I trust you with my body, Sarah."

Obviously amused, she pursed her lips and twisted them to the side, looking away from him.

"Sarah?" came Beckman's dry, unamused drawl. He knew he was really pushing her limits today, he could see it in the way she kept pinching the bridge of her nose. He made a mental note to dial it back a bit. He owed this woman so much. She'd helped him find his purpose again, having discovered him eight months ago during a Mammoth bonspiel. She'd recruited him to the U.S. Team after secretly following his efforts from afar for a while. And she'd done it in spite of the side-looks she'd gotten from the other curlers on the team, from her fellow coach, Langston Graham, from a few folks in charge of the federation, even. A curler from California? It was nuts. And they thought she was even more crazy for hand-picking Chuck to partner with Sarah for the first Mixed Doubles Curling event in the Winter Olympics ever. It was such a risk. He knew he'd been a risk to bring onto the team five months ago, and he was even more of a risk now. These were the Olympics, after all. But she put aside her own personal life and would be spending so much of her time with training and preparing them for how different mixed doubles was from regular team curling.

"I'm good," Sarah answered, nodding.

"Good." Beckman walked over to the table next to the white board they'd used to talk strategy, Beckman and Sarah both working to teach Chuck in particular the different rules for mixed doubles curling. It would take a bit to really sink in, but he was trying his best. "I've got these forms you both need to fill out. Just for the federation. We're hiring you."

Chuck's head snapped up, and then he turned to look at Sarah. She seemed no less surprised. "Hiring?"

"What, you think this is for fun?" Beckman asked, her lips upturned a bit. "We're paying for some of your expenses for the apartment we forced you two to share, as well as equipment. San Jose isn't cheap. And you'll get a paycheck for training. Also you have an agent, one for the two of you." Now Sarah looked really surprised as she turned to meet his gaze. This seemed like a lot of faith too soon.

Beckman must have read his mind because she sighed and half-sat on the table top, propping the two stacks of forms on her thigh. "I know. It's only been a few weeks since you knew you'd be on the team together. Chuck, you just found out you were going to the Olympics. But we're putting our eggs in this basket, as it were. I've gotten the federation leadership in on it. We're all in on you two."

"Don't you think that's…a bit premature?" Sarah asked. "You haven't even seen us competing in a real mixed doubles match yet. What if we absolutely bomb?"

Chuck had the exact same thought.

"Do you think you're going to bomb, Sarah? When's the last time you bombed?" Beckman asked.

"Literally, like, a month and a half ago, with Bryce, in the worlds. We barely came in sixth place and the top world teams weren't even in that competition."

"Where's that confidence you usually have?"

"I don't know. Maybe it left with Bryce."

Chuck felt a bit awkward, being in the same room as this conversation. He felt like maybe he shouldn't be here, like maybe Sarah wouldn't want him standing here while this particular discussion was had. So he took an inch's worth of a step back and turned his head to look at the white board instead of the two women in the room with him.

"Or maybe it left because of Bryce, Sarah. Get it back." That sounded like an order, and Sarah seemed to take it as one. He could see her straighten her shoulders a bit.

"I'm doing my best, Coach. I just think maybe—"

"Sarah, don't waste your time trying to talk the federation out of paying you. I worked so hard to get this package for you two. I expect to see this investment come back to us. And that means I need to get as much work out of you two as I put into getting this deal." Beckman lifted the papers on her lap.

His new partner turned then and he felt her gaze on the side of his face. He slowly slid his own gaze over to meet hers. "Chuck?"

He fought the urge to shrug. Shrugging wasn't really appropriate in this situation. This was a big deal. There was a lot riding on this.

"Why—Why didn't you offer this when Bryce was Sarah's partner?" he asked then as the thought occurred to him.

Sarah's brow furrowed as though she hadn't thought of that, and she turned to face their coach. "Yeah, that's actually a really good question."

Beckman nodded. "It is. I've seen Bryce curl for the last few years now. He's not very good at it." Chuck's jaw dropped. "I realize it's blunt, however I wasn't the one who recruited him. That was Langston. But he thinks with his pocketbook more than he thinks in terms of curling. It's why we're such a good coaching duo. He markets the team and the players, I win the tournaments. Bryce Larkin is marketable. Obviously."

Chuck thought he saw a bit of an uncomfortable squirm from Sarah out of the corner of his eye.

"But is he a good curler?" She shrugged. "He's fine. Passable. He's pretty good on a four man team. He works best on a four man team, actually. But for mixed doubles, I never thought he was good enough at compromise, at communication, at listening."

Sarah scoffed and crossed her arms. "You got that right."

"I have faith in you two, though. I have a sense for curling, always have had it. It's in my chest. A sort of tingle that happens…For the first time in years, since I first saw you throw a rock for the first time actually, Sarah, I feel that feeling. The federation knows to trust me when I get that tingle."

"So the federation is hiring us as its permanent U.S. mixed doubles curling team based on a tingle?" Sarah asked, jutting her chin out and looking at Beckman through her eyelashes.

"I suppose so. Yes."

Sarah turned to look at him then, and he looked back.

"Good enough for me," he said.

She paused. "Me, too."

"Hand 'em over, Coach," Chuck said stretching his hand out. He felt the warmth of Sarah's gaze on him again, and he wondered what she was thinking right then. Was she thinking this was crazy? That she was crazy for doing this? Because frankly, he was stoked. He would gladly drop his freelance programming and writing career to get paid for curling. He loved curling. And with the added bonus of getting to work with these two women whom he admired and respected more than he could say, he'd sign so fast and so hard.

What did he have to lose, anyway?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

Sarah shook her head at how idiotic this all was.

"Pass me a beer already," came the hiss from behind her.

Casey turned and practically growled over his shoulder at the frustrated woman behind him. "Hold your damn horses!"

Anna Wu made a quiet "ugh" sound and Sarah could practically hear her eye-roll to go with it.

He finally pushed the door open with his free hand and held it for everyone else to file in: Tyler, Chuck, Jane, Mark, Anna, and Sarah bringing up the rear.

"Let there be liiiiiight!" Chuck sang, and the lights above the furthest curling sheet on the rink illuminated it. "Be-a-ootiful," he added.

"Where are the rest of 'em?" Anna asked, smoothing her hand down the black skirt she always wore over ripped tights and Doc Martens that looked straight out of The Craft.

"No need to turn all of the lights on. Don't want anyone to wonder who's in the building at one in the morning, do you?" Chuck shrugged. "This way we can play in peace."

"Namaste!" Tyler exclaimed, slapping his hands together and bowing.

"Ugh, that's so inappropriate," Anna said, shoving the side of Tyler's head.

"Wot?!" the British American hobbit-resembling curler asked defensively, laughing as he trotted off to grab the equipment. The rest of them followed behind, picking out their brooms, grabbing the stones and hefting everything over to the sheet of ice Chuck had lit up.

Chuck shut the box where the electrical controls were and slung his curling shoes over his shoulder, coming up to stand next to her. "So…Maybe I'm gonna sound dumb asking this question, but why did Casey swear me to secrecy about this late night drink-curling escapade?" he asked. "He said especially don't tell Jeffster."

"Have you met them?" Sarah asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. I mean, they're…" He cleared his throat. "They're really weird and sort of…um…"

"Inappropriate?"

"Yep."

She smirked at how quickly he answered. "That's why they're not officially on the team. But they're good curlers so it helps to have them around. Honestly, I don't know what they do with their personal lives outside of when they're at training sessions, and I really don't want to know." She shook her head.

"Oh. Those types of guys, huh? I mean, I'm not surprised."

"I think they live in Jeff's van, but I can't be sure."

Chuck shrugged. "Checks out."

She snorted and led him around the other sheets to where their teammates were setting up and getting their shoes on. She noticed Anna had already finished a beer, crushing the can in her small hand in a way that made Casey look almost unnerved as he watched her.

"We did this once before, prior to you being recruited onto the team. It was a few weeks before a big tournament and we wanted to go all out. Sort of a bonding situation. Jeff and Lester nearly got themselves arrested. I think Jeff had frostbite, actually, once everything was over and done with." She spun to give her an incredibly confused look and she held up a hand. "Don't ask how. I have no freakin' clue how the hell he got frostbite. None of us asked any questions." He shivered and she agreed completely.

"So any time we're doing something that's a little…bad," she bounced her shoulder and gave him an innocent look, "and especially if it involves alcohol, we don't tell them."

"I like that policy. I'd prefer not to get arrested a month and a half before the Olympics."

"Me, too," she chirped.

It was just as they finished the second end, a black trash bag in the corner full of beer cans already, when Sarah heard the door to the rink open. She glanced over her shoulder, mid-laugh at something Tyler had said, to see Coach Diane Beckman's small but fierce outline in the doorway.

"Shit," she breathed. "Guys." Nobody seemed to hear her. "Guys!" She reached out and twisted her fist in the shirt of the person closest to her, which just so happened to be Chuck.

"Wha—Oh no. Oooh boy," he mumbled.

The diminutive woman walked slowly into the room as their teammates realized what was happening one by one. Sarah heard Jane murmur a quiet, "We're screwed."

They were silent, then, watching as she approached.

"Seriously?" Beckman asked, the flattest, drollest look on her face.

"Wanna beer, General?" Tyler asked, breaking the silence with his favorite nickname for their coach. "It's like piss 'cause Casey's got broken taste buds, but beer is beer, as a scholar once said."

"What scholar?" Mark asked from where he stood off to the side, his brush propped on his shoulder.

"Just…a scholar, man, I dunno."

Sarah stayed with her gaze fixed on their coach, an apologetic look on her face as the woman met her eyes. "We're sorry, Coach. It just felt like this last week was really brutal and we needed to unwind. Bonding time, right?"

Nobody responded, and she could feel how everyone was holding their breath.

To the surprise of all of them, though, the stern look on their coach's face broke and she chuckled, shaking her head. "You people are crazy and I don't really know what to do with you, but as long as everyone shows up to the meeting at noon tomorrow, I really can't begrudge you."

Sarah gaped as the coach walked closer still and held out a hand.

"Anna, toss me a beer. If you kids think you had it bad this week, I've had it way worse."

The beer flew threw the air and Beckman caught it in one hand, cracking it open and throwing it back. They all cheered and went back to their game, Beckman joining the team that was one person down as the skipper.

An hour passed, then another, and her teammates were starting to slip a lot more on the ice, eliciting roars of laughter from everyone else. And when the beer ran out, Casey and Anna left to bring back even more.

Eventually Sarah looked up to find her coach sitting in one of the seats in the bleachers pressed into the corner behind the sheet they were playing on. She looked almost like a matriarch, the head of the family, overlooking her wee ones frolicking in front of her, a look of satisfaction on her face.

"I need to sober up before I spend anymore time on this ice or I'll crack my head open," she announced, stepping out and handing her broom off to Mark as she left them behind to join Beckman.

"You don't have to keep me company," the older woman said, waving her off.

"Nah, I just made the teams even."

They sat together for a short time and just watched the game proceed in comfortable silence. Sarah giggled a bit as Tyler slapped Chuck's shoulder while he slid past to sweep a stone Casey had just thrown. Chuck nearly slipped in surprise, but still kept his feet and helped to make Casey's shot pretty much perfect. "HA!" Chuck exclaimed, pointing in the Brit's face. "That's for the colonists! And also India!"

Sarah shook her head and rolled her eyes, covering her face with her hands as Beckman mumbled, "Oh God."

But then a few minutes later, when it was Chuck's team's turn, he pulled Casey and Anna in to strategize the throw he'd be making, and she felt her coach put a hand on her wrist.

"Watch," the woman said. "Look. This is it. This is why."

Sarah furrowed her brow and turned to look at her.

"No, watch!"

She turned back and watched Chuck. He made gestures with his hands, and he got a look on his face. It was almost mischievous, but there was some confidence in it, too. With a tinge of excitement. Casey looked like he was opposed, shaking his head, looking at Chuck like he was crazy. But then eventually he and Anna both shrugged and went back to the house.

"Know why I picked him out of the crowd when I saw him at a bonspiel in Mammoth almost a year ago?" Beckman asked as Chuck used his brush to pull a rock over and dropped down in front of the hack. Sarah shook her head, keeping her eyes on him. "There were hundreds of curlers there. It was a big competition, clubs from all over California getting involved. And his team wasn't big or well-known, clearly a couple of guys who just did it for fun. But out of everyone, Bartowski stood out, even over the players who were professionals or had a lot of experience. It wasn't just that he's stupidly tall."

Sarah snorted. She liked Beckman so much more when she had a few beers in her—not that she disliked her sober.

"But because I saw something in him I didn't see in curlers I've known for years—decades, even. He's crafty. Not in a bad way; I'm not sure that kid's capable of even doing harm to a fly. But you can see his brain working a mile a minute. I got up close so that I could hear what players talked about, the strategizing. And I heard how he was when he talked to his teammates. The things he came up with were," she chuckled and shook her head, "madness. I mean, I remember thinking, 'this kid is crazy'. And I was so surprised by his teammates just going along with it. But then as I watched throughout the day, more often than not, it worked." She widened her eyes. "I figure they must have been used to his off the wall ideas, and it worked enough they figured, 'ya know what? Let's see it' because what'd they have to lose? But it was so interesting, the way he was so attuned to his teammates, but also to other teams. In the hour or so between his matches, his teammates left the arena but he would hang around, watch other teams, listen, study. And you just got the feeling it wasn't that he was being cunning and planning on using it against anyone else."

The younger woman turned to look at Beckman then.

"You know what sets Bartowski apart from any other curler I've ever seen play the game? It isn't just a sport for him, it's more of a, um, a puzzle. He has a math-centric brain." She tapped her temple. "A curling match is an equation to him. And when he solves the equation correctly, he wins. But the thing I appreciate the most about him is that he allows his teammates to solve it with him. If they think they have a better way, he listens. I saw it over and over that day. And, he doesn't know this, but even after I approached him to talk about the game at that tournament, I kept up with where he played and I watched. People attempt circus shots, you know. It's all chance. Sometimes you don't even mean to. Bartowski calculates in his head, though. He does physics or something. I don't know how to describe it. You can almost see the numbers and angles in his eyes. I mean, look."

Sarah switched her gaze back to Chuck as he threw the stone. She could see he was thinking, visualizing. In spite of potentially being buzzed from the beer he'd had.

The rock slid past the hog line, curled around the guard and started to slow as Chuck climbed to his feet. "Hard!" he yelled. "HARRRD!" Anna and Casey both started sweeping in front of the rock once it cleanly cut between the two guards Mark and Greta had placed, and it inched closer and closer to the rock Casey had thrown into the button. "Whoa! Whoa, we're good." They stopped and everyone watched as the rock Chuck threw slowed and snuck right up next to the other rock, freezing against it. He'd buried that brilliantly.

"Oh, shit!" Anna yelled. "What the eff was that, California?!"

"Apparently, we need to get more alcohol into this guy," Jane said, looking up. "Good thing I brought some of Grandma Bentley's whiskey!"

"Why the hell you keep that from us all this time?" Tyler asked as they all filed away from the half-finished game to partake in the whiskey.

"I was waiting for one of you idiots to deserve it," she teased. "Chuck gets first shot."

"Hear, hear!"

Beckman extended a hand out as if to say, See?

Sarah let out a low whistle. "Wow. That delivery was…"

"Almost stupid, wasn't it?"

"I'd say so." She shook her head.

"He comes across as green, I know. And he definitely has a lot to learn. But my God, having a brain like that on the team, and the fact that he has the guts to trust that brain…I had to try. He has the makings of a clinical curler."

Sarah nodded and leaned her chin on her palm. "I understand now. Not that I'd questioned your decision before."

"I also want you to know that's why I pushed to have him put on this mixed doubles team with you. And it's why I pushed for a paid contract with you two as a packaged deal. I wanted it to be Bartowski and Walker. Specifically I wanted him partnering with you."

"Why specifically with me?" she asked, frowning in curiosity.

"He respects the hell out of you, Sarah. More than he respects anybody else here. By far. He trusts your knowledge and your experience, he believes in you and in your talent and skills."

Damn it, Sarah knew she was blushing. The alcohol in her system made it impossible for her to keep it back.

"He'll work with you, Sarah. Not to be cruel and harp on this, when I know it's probably still a very sensitive topic, but Bryce feels he is the best curler we have. That includes you—the actual best curler we have. Had, I should say with Bryce…since he's quit us for good, it sounds like." She sighed. "That pretty boy didn't like deferring to you on decisions. Bartowski's going to listen. He knows you're the best curler; he's seen what you can do in matches. He'll defer to you. Your experience. It goes back to how much he respects you."

Sarah smarted at that and bit back a sour face. "I get it. My boyfriend didn't respect me."

"Now don't take it the wrong way, Sarah. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant he saw you as the inferior curler, the weak link, and it meant communication didn't work between you. It's probably why the team wasn't as successful as it could have been. And no one here has as much respect for your play as that tall gangly idiot currently giving that freaking hobbit a piggyback ride while he takes a shot of whiskey."

She followed Beckman's gaze and, indeed, Chuck was giving Tyler a piggyback ride while Tyler threw back a shot of Jane's grandma's whiskey. She felt a bubble of laughter come up and she let it out, shaking her head. Beckman snorted and shook her both sobered then and Sarah sighed. "Bryce had a way of working against me. And me against him. It felt like…I dunno, like the competition was between us, and not with the other team."

"That makes me sad. It went on for way too long and I let it happen."

Sarah snorted. "You? I was the one in the pointless relationship." Sarah shrugged then. "But it's over now. I have a new partner, one I still haven't played an official match with, by the way, and yet I've already gotten a paycheck for my first two weeks of being a professional curler for the U.S. Curling Federation. You people are crazy.""So sue us for having a bit of faith."

"There's faith and then there's blind faith."

"This is much more viable than anything we've put together so far. You and Chuck." It was rare she heard Beckman use any name other than Bartowski, and she listened a bit closer. "I see something new here. I already see the trust between you two. Only thing that remains to be seen is what you do with it in a few weeks at the bonspiel."

"I won't let you down." She caught herself then. "We won't let you down."

"I know." She put her hand on Sarah's back. "And believe it or not, he said almost the exact same thing. Already on the same page." Sarah smiled at that, ducking her head, trying not to show the shyness she suddenly felt at the thought of Chuck being as determined as she was to make this partnership work. "And that, my dearest pupil, is why I didn't offer this packaged deal to you when you had Bryce as a partner."

It felt much better to know—really know—why Beckman had fought so hard for this, why the federation was going all in on their new team, and doing it so prematurely, before they'd even played an official match together.

She watched Chuck laugh with Mark at the corner of the sheet as they picked up their brooms to continue their game. She still didn't know him. But she was starting to trust him, starting to see why he'd been snatched up by Beckman and brought to their team. And she was ready to do whatever she had to if it meant proving to the federation that their gamble was worth it.

**-oooo-**

Sarah sat up in bed with a huff. She wasn't nervous. These weren't nerves. She knew what she was about. It was why she'd worked herself into the position she was in. She was the face of American Curling because she was consistent and smart, because she was the best curler in the country.

But she also wasn't so foolish as to think her looks hadn't added to it. She'd been boosted to stardom in this fast-growing sport in the U.S. because she was "modelesque", as one article had described her. Her teammates had teased her about it, passing the article around, and Bryce had belted out a, "Hell yeah she is!" But something she appreciated about her teammates was that while they ribbed her about being the "Disney princess" on the team—which couldn't be further from the truth—she knew it was just teasing, that they respected her as a person and as a player.

The team had become something of a family for her in the last six or seven years. They didn't hold back. No one did. Once you were standing on that sheet, no criticism was off limits. They advised one another, guided, coached, and in the end, they were all better for it.

She was going to the Olympics with some of them in a month. And in two days she and Chuck were headed to Mammoth for a mixed doubles bonspiel—Or "practice", as Beckman had called it.

But she wasn't nervous. Not at all.

Especially not because she was competing with a partner she'd only curled with for a few weeks now, and never in any actual competition besides in the rink with their own teammates.

It was strange, though, how quickly Chuck had settled into his role in their partnership. He listened to her, he learned from her, and he was extremely good at doing what he was asked. But as things became a bit less tentative and more comfortable, he started speaking up, offering alternatives, even thinking outside of the box when strategizing with their coaches. She liked it. It didn't always pan out, and they'd lost against their teammates a few times in scrimmage because he'd missed risky shots instead of doing the safe shot. But when it worked, and it did more often than she'd thought it would, it was so damn hot.

Sarah pushed her hands through her hair and told herself to stop going down that path. It wasn't necessary a sport of athleticism, but of precision and strategy. And she was a student of the game, a lover of the game, so when she saw Chuck deliver rocks like that, and he'd done it enough now for her to know he was capable of really delicious deliveries, it…did something to her.

So sue me.

She glanced over to her nightstand and saw she'd forgotten to grab her usual glass of water that she took to bed with her. Swinging her legs out of bed, she stepped into her slippers and stretched her arms over her head, glancing at the clock. It was almost three in the morning in San Jose. In PyeongChang, it was almost eight in the evening. Maybe her body was already preparing her for the jet lag she knew would come in a few weeks.

Or maybe she was nervous.

This tournament coming up was going to be the ultimate test before the ultimate ultimate test.

Pushing her hair back from her face, she grabbed her sweatshirt from the foot of her bed where she'd thrown it the night before and shrugged it on, yawning so hard it popped her jaw.

She wandered down the dark hallway, pulling her sweatshirt tighter around her and hugging herself tightly to ward off that early morning chill. As she shuffled into the kitchen, she turned on the light and went to the cupboard to grab a glass for water.

When she turned with the glass in hand, she saw someone sitting at the kitchen table. She yelped and bobbled the glass, just barely managing not to drop it.

"Sorry!" Chuck said quickly. "I didn't say anything when you came in because I didn't want to scare you."

"Yeah, how well did that work out?"

He winced, but looked amused in spite of everything.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark, anyway?" she asked, putting her free hand over her heart to try to calm it down. She took a deep, slow breath.

Chuck just shrugged, moving his hands on the mug she finally noticed sitting on the table in front of him. "It was kind of peaceful, with the moonlight coming in and all," he said then, gesturing with a tip of his head towards the window in the living room. "Anyway, I didn't wanna turn on any lights and maybe wake you up or something."

Sarah gave him a long look before going over to the sink and filling her glass with water. She took advantage of the pause to ponder his almost unnecessary thoughtfulness. She'd had a lot of roommates in her twenty-seven years, and most of them weren't great. Clattering pots and pans at five in the morning, bringing guys back and scaring her shitless when she saw random men in their boxers walking down the hallway in the wee hours of the morning. Meanwhile, Chuck Bartowski didn't turn on a light for fear he might wake her up, when her room was all the way at the end of the hallway and she more often than not left her door barely cracked.

She slowly walked over to where he sat at the table, taking a long sip of her water. "You know, you live here, too."

He just blinked up at her, his brow furrowing. She didn't think anything of the fact that she found him kind of cute, all sleepy and rumpled, his curls sticking up everywhere. "I know," he said quietly.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked, gesturing to a chair.

He made a face and pushed it out towards her. "Of course not! This is your table and chairs. You live here."

She merely lifted an eyebrow meaningfully.

Realization swept over his handsome face and he ducked his head and chuckled, shaking his head. "Point taken."

Grinning tiredly, slid into the chair and set her water down on the table. "Really? Because sometimes I feel like you tiptoe around here a little bit, trying not to disturb me or whatever, and it's really nice of you, but, like…don't do that. You're paying half of the rent, half of the utilities, doing half of the grocery shopping. This is your home now, Chuck."

As she put her hand flat on the table, she realized that what she said was true for her, too. This was her home. As different as this situation was, as unorthodox as it was to smash curlers together in nearly every aspect of their lives, the sudden departure of Bryce Larkin—one of the centerpieces of curling Team U.S.A.—had forced their coaches to make big decisions. And so far, it hadn't blown up in their faces. She and Chuck got along well, and their brains were starting to align on the ice, too.

The real test would come in a few days when the Olympic curling competition began and they faced China right off the bat. Then they'd see if this madcap adventure would pay off.

"You're right. This was just such a freakin' sudden…" He huffed, seeming unable to finish the sentence. She understood what he meant, anyway.

"I know. I feel it, too." She sipped her water again. "But I think we're doing okay, don't you?"

"Four weeks in, I'm pretty happy, honestly. This is a lot nicer of an apartment than I've ever had before and I don't have to worry about walking in on my sister and her husband having sex, so that's a major plus."

"Oh, God." Sarah laughed, shaking her head. So he'd lived with Ellie and Devon. That surprised her a little bit, honestly. She knew he'd lived in Los Angeles and came out to Wisconsin when he was recruited for Team U.S.A. not six months earlier. It was a talking point with everyone, and a reason for the guys to rib him about being not just green, but from the golden state. Is there even ice in SoCal? was a popular one. And Chuck took it like a champ.

"Yeah, so thanks for being a couple of steps up from that," he said, chuckling.

"Wasn't that hard. Our schedule's gonna be so freakishly insane, where will I even find the time to have sex?"

It had just slipped out, and she was suddenly aware of the way the room got a little warm, the air a bit tense. She made quick work of changing the subject, though.

"So what are you doing up at this hour?" she asked, acting as though something hadn't just happened, a shift in the air between them.

Chuck let out a long breath and raised his mug to his lips. "Can't sleep, if you can believe it. Thought maybe a little chamomile would help." He lifted his mug again and set it back down, wrapping his hands around it.

"Ah." She paused. "Nervous, huh?"

"Pfffft." He made a face shrugged it off, suddenly switching the look on his face to be very serious. "Yes. Very much so."

His antics made her giggle, something she hadn't done much of before this last month had happened.

"But you've already been to the Olympics, Chuck."

He furrowed his brow, tilting his head. "How'd you know that? I don't think I've told anyone on the team. I mean, not even Becks."

Sarah fought a blush. "I…maybe Googled your sister to see when her event is. And, um, Captain Awesome's, too. It mentioned you in an article. You were in the Olympics for ski jumping, Chuck! That's insane, first of all." He chuckled, looking down at his tea. "And secondly, why don't you tell people that?"

She was a little embarrassed that she hadn't brought it up to him when she first read about it. Now it felt almost weird to admit it. She'd looked into his family, into him. Would he think anything of it? Read into it?

Chuck pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and sighed. "I don't know. It's not like I really even did all that well. I barely qualified for finals in the very last spot, and even then, I ended up far enough away from the podium. Wasn't really a triumph for American ski jumpers in Sochi." He winced with a hiss through his teeth.

"That's okay. Ski jump isn't really an American…thing."

"Just like curling, hey?" A slow crooked smile grew on his lips and she felt that strange warmth again. "I guess I'm just really into things that Americans aren't supposed to be good at."

"Not a bad thing." Then she shook her head. "But listen, don't…don't let the nerves get to you. I mean, this is our first test, so that's probably why I'm also awake right now. Honestly. I've been trying to tell myself it isn't, because I've been competing in mixed doubles for over three years and should be used to this, but I'm still nervous." She wrinkled her nose and got a smirk out of him.

"Everybody is watching," he said. "Like…everybody. I made the mistake of looking at Twitter."

"Is that why you're awake? Twitter? Oh mannnn. Chuck, come onnn." She giggled at him and shook her head.

He gave her an ashamed look. "I couldn't help it. I wanted to see if anybody was talking about…er, us. I mean our coaches slapping me onto your team this quickly has caused, um, an uproar. That's putting it lightly. The curling fandom wants me to slip on the ice and hit my head."

"What?" She frowned. "People are really saying that?"

"Well, I'm not Bryce. And that's who they were hoping to see. This tournament is streaming like on YouTube, they're all planning to watch it. They're waiting to say 'I told you so' and they suck."

"Yeah. Really. Welcome to my world." She winced and reached out to pat his hand. "Sorry."

"Hey, I'm gettin' paid to do something I enjoy, right?"

"And there's…" She didn't realize it, but her filter was damaged. The walls she usually had up were weak. Maybe it was tiredness. "I have a lot of pressure on me," she admitted. "Which is fine. I kinda like pressure. I feed off of it." She met his warm, amber-colored eyes and she wondered if it was the low lighting or the fact that she was a little groggy that made this the first time she ever noticed how nice his eyes were…

She leaned forward with her chin on her hands, elbows on the tabletop. "The people out there didn't see it but that whole situation was such a mess. Actually, I think the only word that can even come close to describing it is clusterfuck." She huffed. "It was a clusterfuck."

He just nodded, his gaze on her, listening intently to her in a way she felt no one else ever really had before.

"Getting dumped sucks. But having it happen in such a public way…" She took a deep breath. "I think a lot of people who never cared about curling started caring because of me and Bryce. The whole couple curling together part of it drew them in. And having all of those people hanging so much on this relationship they'd romanticized so much in the media, especially leading up to these Olympics…" She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "When we broke up, the fallout was so insane and I did everything I could to hide from it. So many 'What happened to America's Curling Couple?' hot takes. Hit pieces going after me, the 'Ice Queen', because what could Bryce Larkin, the hottest most charming curler in the country, have done wrong?" She swept her hand trough the air sarcastically and then rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with Sarah Walker? Did the pressure get to be too much for her? Whaaaat a cold hard bitch."

It was silent for a few moments, but it wasn't altogether uncomfortable, she found. And she finally lifted her eyes to his again. He was just sitting there, still listening, a wry look on his face.

She continued.

"I absolutely know what the narrative will be going into these Olympic games, no matter what happens in this bonspiel leading up to it. I know because it's already sort of starting. I'm the face of U.S. curling, yeah?" He nodded. "Everybody thinks Bryce and I had the romance of the century or something. They made it a lot more fascinating and a lot better than it was, though. I mean, it really wasn't that great looking back. It was…It was really just about the sport at the end of the day. The game. But they're all looking for brokenhearted Sarah Walker to step out onto that ice. Because of course being dumped by the hottest curler in America must just be…destroying me right now." She rolled her eyes again.

"You came to the rink to train the day we found out about Bryce ditching the team and breaking up with you," he said. "That very same day."

She nodded. "Yep. Because it sucked, but…" She lowered her chin and gave him a flat look. "I know what I'm about."

He chuckled. "People see what they want to. I'm not excusing it," he said quickly, stretching a hand out. "I think it's sad when people hang their whole lives on a relationship between people they don't even know personally, you know?"

"It's the way the world is, now. Bryce's Twitter shenanigans give them a lot of access to his life, and too much access to our relationship. And hey, Bryce and I grew the sport quite a bit by doing that. But what we didn't do was win. Especially these last two years. And that losing streak ended up having way more of an impact than whatever there was between us." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "There are a lot of people waiting to say 'I told you so' when my Olympic run bombs. I can just hear it: she can't do it without Bryce. So I have a lot to prove."

"To your fans?"

"Mm." She shrugged. "Sarah Walker, the only one left from America's Curling Couple, overcoming the heartbreak of a bad break-up, destroyed love," she pronounced dramatically, getting him to snort. "It's the perfect redemption story." She snorted this time. "No, it's not about them," she said. "It isn't about proving myself to Bryce, either," she added, omitting the fact that she still thought about him sometimes, rarely but…sometimes. She'd been with him for almost three years after all, and that wasn't a small thing. "It's really that…Well, I wonder if it was just the fact that Bryce and I didn't curl well together because we were mismatched. Or if I'm really not as good at this sport as I think and that's why we didn't do well."

"It isn't that."

She looked up at him. "Really? Have anything to base that off of?"

He swallowed and sat back in his chair. "Uh…I've seen you curl, Sarah. Before this. I mean when I've gone to bonspiels with the team. You're really freaking good at this. I'd say the best on Team U.S.A. You know what you have to do and you deliver it. Highest accuracy percentage on our team, for sure. The stats are there. Not to mention what Beckman said about Bryce being a bit…erm, overhyped skills-wise." He winced. She wasn't sure if he just didn't like speaking ill of people because he was a nice guy, or if he didn't want to speak ill of her ex-boyfriend.

Sarah smiled and reached over to squeeze his bicep gratefully. "Thank you, Chuck. But I'm not convinced. I need to prove myself in these games…to me. I need to know that I can succeed without him. I'm have to succeed with you."

Instead of rushing to tell her how great she was, and fill the apartment with empty compliments, her partner and roommate simply nodded and tacked on a sweetly genuine, "I'll do whatever is necessary to help you out with that, partner."

The warmth increased and this time she welcomed it, simply smiling at him, wondering if maybe they might just have what it took to at least win a few matches in that tournament coming up. And if they could just win one in the Olympics, maybe this craziness might be worth it.

**-oooo-**

"You okay?"

He lifted his head from where he'd let his forehead thump into the cool metal of the railing, attempting a smile as he turned to look at Sarah. She'd been quiet for a while now, deep in thought, and he feared she was internalizing everything. He didn't know her well enough to know that was what she was doing, but he worried anyway.

"I'm good. Fine. I need a drink, though."

She gave him a wry look. "Unfortunately, they don't sell drinks here. But I'm sure at the end of all this, we'll all be at the bar at the top of the slopes, and if things continue like they've been going, drinks won't be on us. So…yay," she drawled.

He huffed. "Then I'll get a soda." As he stood, he nearly forgot his manners, and halted, looking back at her. "Can I get you something?"

"Just a water, if you don't mind."

"Gotcha."

Chuck left her sitting in the bleachers alone. At any other bonspiel, he spent this time studying other teams, figuring out their strategies, unraveling the puzzle of the game they were putting out on the ice. But he was frustrated and upset. He was competitive. He liked to win. But not until the U.S. Curling Federation made him sign a contract and started paying him to be on the mixed doubles team with Sarah Walker did he feel the sting of loss, a real, deep sting that put him in a cold sweat. They'd lost their first two matches today. They had one more in a few hours, and if they lost that, the rest of their matches tomorrow were pointless.

He just couldn't get in the right mindset. And despite agreeing on which shots they'd take every time, their luck was just…screwed. He calculated, they threw how they had to, but the bounces and rolls just weren't working in their favor, and it was insanely demoralizing.

Chuck bought himself a bottle of root beer, enticed by the fact that it was in legitimate, glass bottles, and he grabbed a bottle of water for Sarah. But he took his time getting back to her side.

This was such a massive undertaking with a lot of pressure. It was exactly the type of pressure the team of Sarah Walker and Bryce Larkin could handle. They'd handled pressure before. And even while they started out well and started going downhill over the last few years, they were still seeming to thrive in the sport. They had followers all over the world.

And that first day of training after news broke that Bryce had quit, that he'd broken it off with Sarah, she had shown up to the rink anyway. No one was cruel enough to mention it; everyone acted like nothing was different or wrong. It was like Bryce had taken a sick day or something.

But Chuck hadn't been able to help watching her, admiring her for her steadfast determination and loyalty to her team and to the sport. It hadn't surprised him to see her take it all on the chin and bounce back like a champ. That was Sarah Walker, wasn't it? Bryce was charming and suave. Everyone liked him, including fans—both male and female. The media fawned over him. And Chuck couldn't even be mad about it. He'd been an admirer himself.

But Sarah Walker…

He'd followed Sarah Walker's career for two years now, ever since that bonspiel in Chicago when he'd basically spent an entire day silently fawning over her delivery accuracy. Even from the stands, seeing that hellbent, icy blue determination in her eyes when she delivered the rock had seriously started something inside of him. It inspired him. Even before he'd understood anything about curling.

She was so confident, the most confident curler he'd ever met or played with…or played against. She exuded the confidence she had in her own talents to the point where it unsettled you when she was your opponent. Her unending calm combined with that confidence and laser-sharp focus had meant she'd been labeled "The Ice Queen", he'd quickly discovered once he began traveling in the same circles. Some of the curlers talked about how her icy stare could freeze a stone in place where she wanted it to stop, no matter how much her teammates were or weren't sweeping.

But he'd been resistant to the term.

Especially once he'd heard a team from Quebec during last month's bonspiel call her Ice Queen in reference to Bryce breaking up with her. Because she wasn't emotionally incapacitated? Because it wasn't evident in her playing that she was heartbroken like everyone expected her to be? It had infuriated him, and he'd had to tell them off as politely as he could. If "Hey, hi. Mind your own damn business," could be considered polite. It had given him joy to see their faces when he'd added, "Her team's in the quarters. Where are you lot sitting in the standings? Oh shit, you're not even on the board anymore, are you? Tough break."

Sarah Walker wasn't icy and she wasn't made of steel. She was a freaking human. She was a fierce competitor. He could almost see it in her eyes when her blood turned to fire as she discovered the perfect strategy. She practically vibrated with it. And when the whole of Team U.S.A. curling trained and broke into different teams, it let him know he was royally screwed when he opposed her and he saw that look on her face. He loved that look when they were on the same team.

Her humanity was that much more evident now that they'd been roommates for four weeks. He'd been afraid it would cause them to butt heads, that their living styles wouldn't mesh and they'd be pissed at each other. That he'd tire of some sort of habit she had, or vice versa, and it would affect their teamwork.

That hadn't happened. But he had met early morning Sarah. She wasn't one of those "Don't talk to me 'til I've had my coffee" sort of people, the way Ellie was. But she was definitely a pouter before seven in the morning, even when she was the one that forced them to get up that early to go for runs. When Sarah Walker was tired, she became more frustrated. When she was hungry, she became silent and distracted. She had a habit of turning off the TV but forgetting to turn off the cable box when she got up from the couch to go to bed sometimes. And she pursed her lips and pulled them to the side when she was trying to hide her amusement at his teasing or his bad puns.

Now here he was competing with her, side by side, partners, preparing for the Olympics by getting this bonspiel under their belts. And he was royally flubbing this whole damn thing. By the end of this tournament, he'd be fired, he'd have to go back to fixing computers and contract coding and writing invoices, back to curling for fun. And at the end of the day, there was way less pressure when he competed with friends in Los Angeles. He didn't have to worry about tweets asking "where TF did this guy even come from?" or saying, "Maybe he'll get hit by a bus and Bryce can come back" when he curled for fun.

But then there was no real incentive to win outside of that inner satisfaction he got from solving the puzzle. There was no actual drive. He hadn't felt that competitive adrenaline before Team U.S.A. pulled him into their ranks. Plus, if he went back, there was no Sarah Walker there.

And in spite of losing the first two matches here, he still felt something between them on that ice—their brains keeping pace, the equal amounts of drive he felt himself emanating from her as well, that determination. They were at the same level, on the same page. It just wasn't translating in their play yet.

It sucked.

It was dragging him down.

As Chuck walked past the café tables where bonspiel attendees were eating bratwurst and fries, he heard his name off to the side. He peeked over his shoulder and saw Coaches Graham and Beckman across from one another at a table, hunched over steaming cups of coffee.

Maybe it was wrong, maybe he shouldn't have, but he took advantage of how distracted and engrossed they were in their conversation to casually sneak up close and throw the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, sitting at the table behind Beckman so that he could hear them.

The teenager he'd unceremoniously slid in next to turned to him with a mouth full of bratwurst. "Uh…wh—"

"SH!"

He got a dirty look but the kid shut up, seeming to find Chuck wasn't worth the trouble and going back to his wiener.

"It isn't that easy, Langston. We can't just expect them to magically beat the first team they face in real competition."

"All right. Maybe not the first one. But that second one? The Swedes cleaned four points off of them in one end, Diane. That isn't a good sign.""It isn't a bad sign, either." Chuck heard the man scoff. "It isn't. Did you see that delivery Sarah made to clear three of the opponents' counters to get two points of her own? It was clinical. The audience watching literally gasped and were on their feet cheering. That is why we did this. Do you think Bryce would've ever agreed to a risk like that? Think she'd ever felt free enough to do that?"

Graham huffed, sounding reluctant. "Probably not."

"What do you mean, probably not? Bryce Larkin stifled Sarah Walker. Like taking a sledgehammer to a dancer's legs." Chuck winced at Beckman's choice of metaphor. "She's free now. He didn't mean any harm, I know that. He did his best. I don't begrudge the guy and I wish him the best, but he would have told her to set up a guard and hope it stopped their opponent from getting another rock near the button."

"Anybody would have made that call. It's the smart thing to do. It's safe."

Beckman let out a frustrated sound. "Safe safe safe. Everything has to be safe. I don't want a team that survives this tournament, Langston. I want a team that lives!"

Chuck stifled a laugh by slapping his hands over his mouth. Did she know she'd just hijacked a quote from a Pixar film about an adorable robot to talk about curling, or…?

"This. Is. Crazy. Diane, we can't sell a losing team to the federation. They believe in your vision, but if Bartowski and Walker continue to lose, they won't last long. We've got these two on contracts. We're paying them, and providing benefits."

"They aren't going to keep losing."

"I'm not so sure."

"I am. Just keep trusting me."

Graham sighed. "I will. We've been doing this together for too long for me not to. But please make sure they start to produce. At least a little. The federation will quickly lose the faith they've put in these two. Remember this thing is being streamed and you know they're watching."

Chuck heard them get up behind him and he hunched forward over the drinks he'd bought, shielding himself from being seen by his coaches. Without warning he sprang up from the table, scaring the teenager. "What the hell's wrong with you, dude?"

"Good talk." Chuck thumped him on the shoulder and strode away, hurrying back to the bleachers and taking them in loping strides, two at a time.

He plopped down next to Sarah and passed her the water he'd bought for her.

"Okay, Norway is freaking delivering like mad. They're absolutely leaving this thing on top," she said. "Thanks for the wat…" As she cracked the seal, she glanced over at him. "…water. What's wrong with you?"

He wondered if maybe she saw the wild-eyed look on his face, that he was practically bursting.

"You look like you are about to explode, or maybe you have to pee…? Either one."

Chuck let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. "I was just getting our drinks and I stumbled on Graham and Becks having a pretty serious convo in the café area."

Sarah let out a slow breath through pursed lips. "Lemme guess. About us."

"Good guess." She lifted her eyebrows and gave a mirthless, closed-mouth smile. "I eavesdropped." Her eyebrows somehow got higher on her brow. "I know. I'm a bad person. But listen. The federation is watching this thing. It's being streamed. They saw us lose. They're losing faith. Graham said that."

Her face fell, jaw clenched. "We're gonna be fired." She cursed. "It's that stone I delivered in the second game, when I tried to tip that rock on the tee line to move the—"

"No, no. Sarah, you had some throws that missed the mark. I had some throws that missed the mark. Every single one of these people out here have made mistakes. The difference is that we're under a friggin' microscope. I bet you if I—if I checked Twitter right now, it would be nothing but utter shitaki mushrooms."

"Huh?"

"Shit. There're kids around, Sarah, and I'm tryin'a be respectful."

"Oh."

Was she teasing him? He felt like she was maybe teasing him. He didn't have time to ponder on that so he kept gong.

"We're probably being dragged on Twitter. Me, especially. They, like, especially hate me."

"Please don't go on Twitter, Chuck."

"I'm not. I'm not going within thirty-thousand feet of that hell scape. But what I am doing is telling you that other people might be losing faith, but that one rock you delivered…you know which one I mean…" A smile slowly grew on her face. "Oh yeah," he said, a crooked grin stretching across his face, "you know what I'm talkin' 'bout. You lit this place on fire, woman." She grinned, on the verge of a giggle, and he could see in her eyes how proud she was. God, those eyes. "People jumped up from their seats applauding. We lost two matches, but that one throw was worth it. The way that beauty curled? Hot damn…"

"Hot damn, Chuck? Really?"

"Get off my ass, Walker. I'm trying to inspire you. Jesus Christ."

This time she did giggle, her shoulders bouncing cutely. "Sorry. Inspire away."

"The federation might not believe in us, Graham might even be losing a bit of faith, but I trust Becks. And more than anything, as cheesy as it sounds, I believe in us. Deliveries like that one? We've got a whole bag of crap like that in our future if we stick with this. By the end of this tournament, we'll have eight matches under our curling belt. So we lost two of 'em. We've got six left. And if the federation wants to fire me in the middle of this tournament, they're gonna have to fly their crusty asses up this damn mountain and physically drag my lifeless body from this building, because I am doing this. Are you with me? You doin' this? We doin' this?" He was revved up, his heart pounding.

And there was a light in her eyes, one he thought he rarely saw. As well as something else he couldn't quite figure out. She wrapped her arms around her torso and squeezed herself, nodding.

"Yeah."

"I have faith in us. Screw everybody else. And Twitter can—" He searched for words.

"Go fuck itself."

"Sarah, the children!" he whispered teasingly, and she laughed, rocking forward. "Let's go find us a whiteboard. We got sh-stuff to do."

They scrambled up from the bleachers and hurried down them, finding their coaches and grabbing one of the whiteboards, going to town on it. He could feel the energy in Sarah. He didn't know if they would win even one game in this tournament. Maybe they wouldn't. But this felt so good, and he could see how hyped Sarah was, that confidence that had ever so quickly trickled out of her throughout the day back where it rightfully belonged.

No matter what happened, this was gonna be an amazing couple of days.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the U.S. men's curling won its first gold medal in the team's Olympic history and I'm not saying it was me and this story that did it, but . . . I mean . . . it could've been. Just saying.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

They were down to their last stone of End 8. Harrison and Everly from Winnipeg were up nine points to their seven. Three of Sarah and Chuck's red stones were placed inside of the eight foot ring, but there was one yellow stone directly in the button. And they'd set two guards up just past the hog line. The bastard stone was buried pretty well.

She turned to Chuck and studied his profile. There wasn't much time left for deliberation. Anyone sane would just throw in the towel.

Bryce would throw in the towel. The only shot that might win the match for them was curling around the guard and somehow slicing through their own two red stones in the eight inch ring. There wasn't much of a port between them…but there was a port, and it was big enough to get a stone through.

Chuck finally turned and met her gaze. "I'm doing the thing."

She let out a harsh breath and nodded. "Good. That's where I am. Do it."

Not recognizing the way his hint of a smile made her feel like there was a knot behind her belly button, Sarah turned away from him as he slid to the hack and picked their very last stone of the game, getting into position. All she could do from one hundred and fifty feet down the ice sheet was line up the throw for him, setting her broom for him to line up his delivery.

He pushed off from the hack, and he was up in a flash, chasing the rock, his broom at the ready.

"It's good!" she yelled. "Good line! Go! Hard!"

He started clearing the ice in front of the rock, increasing the curl so that it left the Canadians' guards behind.

"Whoa! S'good!" she barked.

Chuck pulled his broom off the ice, still following the rock. She saw something in the ice, then, something that could be catastrophic, and she jumped in, clearing it just in the nick of time and sweeping.

"Whoa, whoa!" her partner warned, and she lifted her broom. She held her breath as the rock oh-so-cleanly threaded the needle, so to speak, before bumping the yellow rock lying in the button.

Sarah jumped into action, getting in front of the yellow rock's roll and sweeping like a madwoman.

"Yeah! YEAH!" Chuck yelled.

When the rock slid to a stop, it was behind the eight foot ring, just barely biting into it. Chuck and Sarah suddenly had three of their red rocks lying as counters. They'd just made three points with their last shot.

The audience watching their match erupted. Sarah smiled politely as Harrison came over to concede, shaking her hand, and then she and Everly shook hands. "Helluva shot, man," she heard Harrison say as he shook Chuck's hand.

"Thanks. Thank you. Round's on us later."

"Deal."

And then Chuck was there in front of her, his hand up in the air, a massive grin on his face. She high-fived him so hard her hand stung through her glove. And she swallowed back the urge to throw her arms around him in a hug. She didn't know why, it just felt like something she should resist. Just in case.

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?" he asked.

She laughed so hard her sides hurt.

And that wasn't the last time they'd won, either. The next day they won two more and lost the last one to a team they'd likely meet at the Olympics in a few weeks, Beckman had told them afterwards.

"Three wins and three losses," the coach said as they trudged through the snow to the hotel. "Not bad for first-timers. Not bad at all."

"Have we won Graham over yet?" Chuck asked, and then he paused. "Have I won him over?"

Sarah snuck a look at him and let herself ponder for a moment just how much crap this guy had to swim through while he was here, while he was her partner. The naysayers weren't just on the Internet, praying on wishbones and eyelashes that he would just go away and Bryce would take his place, that she and Bryce would get back to dating again. He also had to face doubts from Coach Graham. She could see it in the older man's face. He thought this was all crazy. But he was going along with it because he respected his co-coach. She imagined after that conversation he'd overheard the day before, Chuck figured the federation doubted him, too. Doubted his ability, his viability. He really was unpredictable. But he was still consistent.

And God, he really was one hundred percent in.

That was more than she could say for Bryce, even when they'd first started, and especially not when that partnership had become a relationship off the ice.

Photoshoots had started to take precedence. And when losing started going hand-in-hand with the photoshoots, he dropped the curling altogether, and the losing along with it. You couldn't lose if you didn't play the game.

And screw Bryce Larkin because he was still getting modeling gigs now. His new top model of a girlfriend probably pulled some strings. But of course it helped that he was hot. And screw him for it.

Huffing, she pushed thoughts of him out of her head altogether. She wasn't letting Bryce Larkin derail this for her. Hell no.

As they stepped into the lobby, stomping their boots a bit on the welcome mat, Beckman saluted at them and began backing away. "Gym, tomorrow morning at seven, hear me?"

Chuck groaned. "We're competing tomorrow. Two matches."

"Not until the evening so suck it up, buttercup."

And then she was gone.

Sarah reached over and nudged his bicep with a closed fist. "Yeah, buttercup."

"I mean, I really think that was uncalled for, what she said to me."She laughed and led him further into the lobby. As she pressed the button to call the elevator she turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Pretty nice of them to spring for two rooms this time, I gotta say. I half expected them to shove us into one room."

"Well, the rooms only have one bed. That'd be…"

His voice drifted off and she quickly turned back to face the elevator. She'd really walked into that one, hadn't she?

"Yeah," she muttered, because it was all she was capable of.

They stepped into the elevator and she saw him lean back against the railing out of the corner of her eye as she pushed the button for the floor they were both staying on.

"Hey, you hungry? That, uh, that Barry guy on the Richmond team said they've got awesome food at the restaurant on the top floor. I mean, I had a burger at the bar, but I'm a growing boy and I'm kinda hungry again 'cause I'm a garbage disposal."

He really was. The man ate so much and stayed lithe and lanky.

She was going to accept the invitation, because why not? And then she halted. She wasn't sure why not, and yet…

"I'm actually gonna take a shower and read the book I brought in bed, if that's okay."

The doors to the elevator slid open on their floor and he automatically stepped forward to hold it open and gesture for her to exit first. "Of course! That actually sounds like a good plan. I'm feelin' kinda lazy anyway," he reasoned, shrugging as he followed her into the hallway and they walked side by side to their rooms. "I'll just order something to be brought to me."

Sarah smiled and nodded. "Okay."

She stopped at her room, getting her keycard out. He kept walking to his own room, which was right next to hers, but she spun as she opened her door, holding it but not going in. "Hey. Chuck."

"Yeah?" He swiped his card and popped his own door open, wedging his boot in it to keep it from shutting on him.

"Fantastic curling today, partner."

"Same to you. Teamwork." His chuckle was pretty freaking cute as he lifted a hand up for a high five.

She couldn't let her door close in order to go over and smack his hand with her own, so instead she mimicked an air-five at him.

He gave her a quick goodnight and a nose-wrinkling smile, and then he was in his room, the door shutting behind him.

Sarah climbed into the shower and stayed under the hot jet for a while, going through the matches they'd played that day. Three hard-fought matches, two difficult wins, and an even more difficult loss. But it just felt better. It felt much better.

Sure, they weren't going to finish near the top in this bonspiel, but they won three of their matches. Even if they lost both tomorrow, they won three. And to do that in their first official competition together? She felt really good about it.

By the time she was out of the shower and dressed in her pajamas, it was close to midnight. She sat on her bed and took a deep, calming breath. She had a lot to look forward to. It was a little less than a month until the Olympic games in PyeongChang, South Korea. Her very first Olympics.

Before she could get too far up in her own head, she heard a sound from the room next door. It sounded like Chuck had turned on his television. He tended to watch TV late at night, she'd noticed. And by the sound of it, he was watching cartoons. She wasn't sure if it was weird or if it was cute that she sometimes caught him watching cartoons. It was maybe just one of his quirks.

She never went into his bedroom in their apartment, but he'd asked her to grab something from it for him once when he was repairing Jane's laptop, and she'd seen boxes and boxes of comic books, meticulously preserved in sleeves. She'd wondered if he read them, or if he just collected them. There were action figures, too.

It was something she elected to keep to herself the last few weeks. If anyone else on the team knew he was such a huge nerd, he'd be crucified. She imagined Casey, especially, would have a field day. Chuck hadn't mentioned his hobbies before, and she wondered if it was something he'd prefer to be kept secret.

What would his Twitter antagonists do with information like that?

God, she couldn't imagine.

Her eyes casually latched onto the door on the wall next to her bed, the one that connected her room to his. She didn't think their coaches had purposely booked them rooms with that adjoining door, but it was still there.

She bit her lip and got up from the bed, going to the door. She touched the lock, then pulled her hand back. What was she doing? Why was she being so awkward? Chuck was her mixed doubles partner. He was her roommate back in San Jose where they trained. And, at the request of their coaches, the U.S. Olympic Committee had slotted them into the same living quarters in the U.S. building at the Olympic Village. She had no idea what that was going to look like, but she didn't care as long as she had a bed and a place to shower.

Shutting her eyes and silently cursing herself for being so silly about this man she'd really only known for a few months and curled with for a few weeks, she unlocked her side of the door and knocked on it. She heard shuffling in the other room, and then the lock on his side clicking, before he opened the door.

They stood there staring for a moment.

"Hi."

She cleared her throat. "Hi, I uh…I heard your TV…"

"Shit, is it too loud? Am I keeping you awake?"Sarah chuckled and shook her head. "No. No, your TV isn't keeping me awake. I'm keeping me awake."

"Ah. Gotcha. Well, do ya want some cake? I had it brought up to me and it's a giant piece."

Laughing, she nodded, and he stepped aside to let her in. She was right about the cartoons, and she must have stared at it a certain way because he cleared his throat and rushed over to grab the remote and change the channel.

"You don't have to do that on my account."

"Nah, it—it's just old stuff that I used to watch when I was younger. I was surprised to find it on. But um…" He turned it to some house buying show and set the remote down again. "Ah, the cake. Right. Um."

She stood in place as he walked around her and grabbed the plate from the tray the hotel staff had brought up for him. Then he brought it over to set it on the end of his bed. He was right about it being a massive piece of cake.

"Oh. One fork. That's not…helpful. Wait." He snapped his fingers and went over into his backpack, digging through it until he pulled some chopsticks out. "It's a bad thing I do sometimes when I order sushi, but I take the unused chopsticks off of the table. I like using them at home sometimes."

"I didn't know that. But…Chuck, you don't have to use chopsticks. It's okay."

"No, no. You take the fork."

She just smiled and sat down at the end of his bed, all wrapped up in a baggy sweatshirt she'd gotten a few years ago when her four-woman team were runners-up in a tournament in Oshkosh. She pulled her legs up under her body and watched as he sat on the other side of the cake, his hands on his knees.

"You ordered it. You get the first bite," she finally said, breaking the slightly awkward silence between them.

With a smile, he grabbed the plate, handed her the fork and was surprisingly dexterous at breaking off a piece of the fluffy chocolate cake to put in his mouth. "See?" he said, mid-chew. "The trick is to be very delicate with the chopsticks."

Giggling, she dug her fork into the cake and shoved a large piece between her lips. "Mmmmm."

"So what's keeping you awake, Sarah Walker?" He paused, his warm eyes flicking up to hers quickly. "If you don't mind my asking."

"It's not important stuff. The usual things that flood your brain at night when you really just want to get some sleep."

"Like that time in seventh grade when Emily Thornton actually looked at you for once to ask if you had an extra pen and you said, 'sure course' instead of 'sure' or 'of course'?"

Sarah laughed. "I hate that."

"Yeah. It happened. I think about that and other stupid things I said or did, missed opportunities that are so supremely trivial, right before I'm falling asleep. And it's the most uncomfortable feeling and then I'm just lying there like whyyyyyy?"

"God, that's so true." She waited for him to get another bite of the cake before she took one of her own.

"The human brain is such a complex, insanely difficult, but wickedly fascinating thing, isn't it? I get why people study it so much." Then his eyes flashed up at the TV. "Oh, come on. These stupid assholes. Speaking of brains, these people have none. They go for the most expensive house. Every single time. Never fails. Because they want the big yard. But they're right next to the beach if they pick the other house. The beach would be their yard. And it's cheaper and the floor plan is nice and open. They get way more bang for their buck." She gave him a long look and he swallowed thickly, blushing a little. "Sorry. It's just…people on this show are stupid." He shook his head then. "But brains. Brains are…cool, er, and then sometimes they're kind of—well, they're mean."

"That's for sure," she agreed.

"Yup. Sometimes your brain is the biggest roadblock to success. Anxiety, nerves, overthinking things…trauma." He ducked his head, poking at the frosting on top of the cake with one of the chopsticks distractedly.

"Are you speaking from experience, Chuck?"

"Huh?" He lifted his gaze to her and opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, his shoulders sagging.

"Sorry, was that…too personal of a question?" She put the fork back in her mouth to lick some of the excess frosting off of it.

"No, not at all. I just didn't realize I was giving off the pity-me waves."

"You're not giving off pity-me waves." She frowned. And then something occurred to her. "Does it have anything to do with why you aren't going to the Olympics for ski jumping?"

He was silent, and a bit brooding.

"We don't have to talk about that. We can go back to making fun of these stupid people for discounting an entire house because of the paint color of the walls in one room. Like they can't just repaint it, am I right?" She snorted and shook her head.

He chuckled. "You're right. I hate when they do that. But um…it's okay. It's common knowledge…sort of. Not really, but sort of. The extra stuff I managed to keep private because people didn't care about a guy that got twentieth place in Sochi."

She was quiet, just watching, waiting patiently for him to continue.

Chuck licked his lips slowly. "A year after Sochi, I was competing in the World Cup in Klingenthal. The winds were pretty dead, which isn't what you want when you're a ski jumper. We really like the winds up there."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Sometimes it picks up your skis and carries you a bit further. They take down drafts and up drafts into account in your score, of course, but it still helps a lot. So we were all sort of put out. Ski jump without wind isn't as fun. We like that unpredictable variable, having to adjust in the air, adjust take off and ski placement and how high or low our bodies are. It's a whole…thing." She nodded. "But on this day, there was just nothing up there. It was crazy…almost eerie. Anyway, the only thing that'll really cancel a ski jump tournament is a straight up blizzard, so we went ahead with the jumps that night. I buckled into my skis, got into place, and zzzooooom! Down I went." He seemed to be pointedly looking down, not at her, as he relayed the story, and she wondered why. Was he embarrassed? Was this too personal? "I was prepared for no wind. I had this whole plan—just shoot out as flat and straight as possible, not get too high. But then right as I left the ramp, this insanely strong gust just came out of nowhere. I wasn't ready for it at all." He stuck his pointer finger and middle finger out to form a 'v' like a peace sign, then with his other hand, pushed back on them hard. "The wind just shoved my skis back and it was so violent and sudden that my right ski snapped off. The ski came down and caught on the snow, lurched me forward with only one ski still attached to my left foot. But I was so off-balance that I just smacked into the ground and bounced with my ski getting twisted under me. I flew down the slope, bouncing over and over, just boom…boom…boom…The ski finally broke right in half at the bottom, shot up, and cracked me right in the chin. I was unconscious by the time I stopped at the bottom."

Sarah dropped the fork in the plate and covered her mouth with both hands. "Holy shit."

"Yeeeahh…It was bad. Internal bleeding, lots of broken bones, bruises all over. But the lovely German doctors took care of me, saved my life. I mean, obviously I'm fine now. No permanent damage…physically. But, uh…I definitely ended up with nightmares." He let out a low whistle and she couldn't help reaching out to put a hand on his arm. The thought of what it must have looked like to see that, the horror of it…let alone living through it…

The terror she felt just sitting here listening to him talk about it…

"Just being that high up and seeing the ground coming closer so fast, and you have no control. You just have to brace for impact and hope you don't die. The image still haunts me sometimes."

"Chuck, that's horrific. I had no idea."

"Don't go on Twitter. Some of the Bryce fans have been sharing the YouTube video of it. You can watch the ski snap and shoot into my chin in slow motion. I, uh, I can't watch it."

"Fuck those people. You could have died," she snapped, feeling almost a little bit vicious. People were absolute monsters on social media, when they had a fake name and fake picture they could hide behind.

"Trust me, I know." He chuckled good-naturedly and offered her the plate so that she could take the last piece. She smiled her thanks and took it, putting her fork on the plate and letting him set it all to the side."Anyway, I have a fear of heights now. Which is embarrassing. And I haven't strapped into a pair of skis since then. Also embarrassing. But I dunno, I just…I can't do it again. You hear about people crashing in their sport and they jump right back into it the second they're healed, but that's just not how things worked out for me. I neeever wanna do that shit again." He shook his head vehemently.

Sarah nodded, eyes wide. "I don't blame you at all. Some of these winter Olympic sports seem insanely dangerous. That's why I was so surprised to see you'd done ski jumping."

"I know. I really don't seem like the type." He laughed self-derisively. "But I was once."

"No, it's not that. I'm not saying you don't seem like you have the guts or anything. Ski jump is just such a particularly nuts thing to get into, no matter who you are."

"It so is. I just loved spending my weekends in Big Bear and Lake Arrowhead on the weekends, and when Ellie really started competing professionally, got a coach and everything, we'd go up to Mammoth. I was picked up by a ski jump coach who saw me going off these big hills without fear. He called me crazy, started taking me to the jumps and stuff." He shrugged. "I should see how Rye is. He, uh…He wasn't happy with me when I quit."

"Well, what the hell did he want from you after all of that? That's a lot to ask of somebody."

"No, I think he sort of got it. But he held out that I'd change my mind eventually. Not gonna happen, though."

"I'm sorry you went through all of that. Must have been really hard."

"Yeah. And expensive." He chuckled. "Ellie and I really had to combine forces to pay off those medical bills and the physical therapy, all of the rehab I had to go through, and the brain evaluations to make sure there wasn't permanent brain damage. Jury's still out on that," he joked, pointing at her, and she laughed, shaking her head.

"Shut up. Your brain is just fine. I saw what it's capable of today."

"It has its moments. Curling kind of, uh…rescued me, you could say."

"How so?" She inadvertently leaned in closer, their shoulders brushing.

"I spent months on the couch, not working, not skiing, not doing anything but vegging on TV and video games, eating cheesy puffs and drinking Mountain Dew."

"Ugh, Mountain Dew? Really?"

"Haven't touched it since, I promise."

"Mountain Douche."

He laughed hard. "Trust me, I know. I was at a really low point. Like, super low."

She gave him a part teasing, part understanding smile, and unconsciously slid her hand over his where it rested on his leg.

"Ellie finally dragged me off the couch, made me shave, and forced me to Illinois for a week with her and Devon to visit his family. While they were out on the slopes and stuff, Ellie bought me a wristband to get into this curling tournament up there. So I, um, I went with her one day, Morgan the next, and by myself that last day. I found myself…" He blushed then, and she couldn't figure out why, but she did finally realize he'd turned his hand over at one point and was holding hers. Their fingers fit together really nicely. It felt good. But was he really blushing over holding her hand? Or was it something else…?

"I found myself super drawn to the sport. By the third day, I'd sort of figured out most of the rules. You—I mean, it was great. Seemed fun. Anyway, I got home and found a local club and it got me out of the apartment, got me back into a place where I could start working, too. I found some purpose again. It was really fun and I met a lot of cool people. And that was when Beckman approached me…the rest is history."

"It's nice to hear someone talk about curling the way I feel about it."

"I really love it. It's just so much fun. And I don't have to worry as much about dying, which is a plus. And now I'm being paid to do it. But best of all, I'm being paid to have Sarah Walker as my partner."

She squeezed his hand tighter as he turned his head to face her, and their eyes met. "That's sweet, Chuck," she breathed, her heart starting to race.

"I mean it," he said quietly, his eyes like warm honey, so sincere and almost sparkling in awe. "You're pretty extraordinary. Not just as a curler, but also as a person."

Sarah wasn't sure what to say. But they both leaned in even closer…she tilted her chin up, their lips just barely brushing, and then she was flooded with one million conflicting thoughts, and she quickly pulled back, sitting up ramrod straight. She realized her hand was still wrapped up in his and she took it back, folding it together with her other hand in her lap, looking down. "Sorry, I just—"

Just what?

Just one million things. So many things that crashed over her all at once. And it was so overwhelming that she couldn't even seem to give him one reason. She shut her eyes tightly and huffed.

"I'm sorry, Chuck. I'm going to go to sleep. I-I'm tired." What a liar. She was such a liar. "Thank you for sharing your cake with me. Enjoy your HGTV," she rushed out, gesturing to the television. Why was she such a damn moron? Just get out. Get out! "Good night."

As she rushed back to the door between their rooms, she felt so ridiculous. So frustrated. And she hated the idea of looking at his face at that moment because he must think she was absolutely insane. But as she opened the door, she stopped again, glancing just barely over her shoulder but not sneaking even half a peek at his face. "Sorry," she breathed, and then she disappeared into her room, shutting the door tightly and turning off all of the lights, climbing into bed without even checking her phone.

Now there was no damn way she'd be falling asleep.

**-oooo-**

It was a really bad cliché.

Running into your crush after working out in the gym for over an hour, covered in sweat, mouth breathing, clothes sticking to you in the worst places, smelling terrible…

But as he nearly knocked Sarah onto her backside, having to reach out and grab her by her biceps to keep her on her feet, he knew there was a lot more making this moment awkward than just the way he currently looked and smelled.

"Jesus! I'm sorry, Sarah! You okay?"

"Yeah." She gave him a smile and took a step back, shouldering her gym bag again. "I'm okay."

"Good." He nodded. "I, um…I was just working out."

She swept her eyes down him and lifted them back up to his face again quickly. "Yeah, I-I see that."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Three and a half weeks had passed since that night in his Mammoth hotel room, and the subsequent bomb that was the next (and last) day of the bonspiel. They'd lost those last two matches that next afternoon. The two of them were just not gelling the way they had the days before. That brain meld that had carried them through three wins the first two days wasn't there on the last day. They'd dropped the ball…or rock, as it were.

And that stinging feeling of Sarah practically running back into her room after he almost kissed her had stuck inside of his chest that whole day. It stuck in him the next day, and then the next day. And every day since then. It was the last thing he thought of before falling asleep. It was the thing he thought of at four in the morning when his body woke him way too early, the thing keeping him tossing and turning, unable to get back to sleep.

He decided that he would do whatever he could to minimize Sarah's discomfort since this wasn't her fault. And that meant giving her space, trying to keep her from having to be in an awkward or uncomfortable situation by keeping himself away in the times outside of training. He put his all into training, into scrimmages with the other curlers on the team, and then when it was over, he tiptoed around her.

Chuck was still incredibly embarrassed. And he knew he was immature, that it was out of character, but he hadn't apologized yet. It was just too mortifying to bring up again. So he spent a lot of his time around training in coffee shops, at the gym, and on the rare occasion, playing video games with Tyler and Mark, or playing Destiny online with Morgan. He even spent time with Ellie, Devon, and their friends from the ski scene. He loved them both dearly, but he didn't entirely fit in with their friends. He tried anyway, because it seemed better to be there than at home alone with Sarah, making her uncomfortable.

This way she could have the apartment to herself, and not worry about having to leave and go somewhere else to keep from being in that uncomfortable position.

He wasn't going to make her be the one to change her schedule. He wasn't going to make her be the one going out of her way to have to avoid him, stay out of the apartment to keep from spending too much time around him. He thought that time passing might alleviate the awkwardness, giving her space might make things better between them, comfortable of that had happened.

He just hoped she knew he didn't expect anything from her.

God, and after her relationship with Bryce, he'd seriously tried to kiss her? What in the hell had he been thinking that night? He had no reasoning for why he crossed the line like that. What if she thought he'd expected her to be open to romance with her new partner after her relationship with Bryce? He was so stupid. So stupid. This was the worst. He was so mortified and ashamed.

"Chuck?"

He jolted back down to earth and cleared his throat. "S-Sorry. I—Yeah?"

"I asked you if you're okay…?"

Chuck nodded. "Oh, yeah. Yep. I am. I…You know, I maybe went a little too hard, too long in the gym. Maybe overdid it with the weightlifting." He paused then tilted his head and made a face. "Which is definitely not something you ever would've caught me saying two months ago."

She giggled. "Welcome to mixed doubles."

"Ha. Welcome to the muscle show." He flexed teasingly, trying to ease the tension between them. "At least, that's the goal."

She giggled again. "Yeah, I guess." Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips and he hated himself for noticing.

The thing was, there was nothing seriously wrong between them. Their training sessions went well, workouts went well. Everything was seemingly fine. But they were just…off-kilter. Not on the same page.

The balance they were supposed to be finding simply couldn't be found…

Granted, the fact that they didn't spend much time together in the same room anymore when they weren't training might add to that.

And before he could think much about it, his mouth just…damn well went off.

"Actually, Sarah, I-I really owe—"

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"

He stopped, frowning, and Sarah turned to glance down the hallway in the direction from which the loud yell came.

Without saying another word, they met gazes and both decided to find out what Anna Wu was yelling about.

When they got to the lounge, Chuck saw most of his fellow Team U.S.A. curlers crowded around Anna as she sat at one of the desks with her laptop open in front of her. They were all looking at her screen. Chuck heard one of them say something about Bryce, but then they all slowly, one by one, looked up and noticed that he and Sarah had come into the room. Silence fell over them immediately.

None of them were looking at were all looking at Sarah.

He exchanged another confused look with her.

"What's going on?" she asked them then, turning back.

"Uh…" Anna seemed to not want to say.

But Chuck wanted to know what they'd all been looking at and talking about before turning silent as the grave when Sarah arrived. So he left his partner's side and gently nudged his teammates out of the way to jostle for a position behind Anna.

The first thing he saw was a picture of Bryce and Sarah in a promotional photograph, in black polo shirts and pants that were a dark shade of magenta. They each had an arm around one another, curling brooms in hand, exchanging a bit of a smirk. It made him feel…not good. He was only human and in spite of knowing he had no right to be jealous, that gross squirmy feeling in his chest was there.

But worse was the headline underneath it: Bryce Larkin is back!…Sort of. And under that, The retired pro curler heads to PyeongChang to provide NBC's commentary for the curling events.

Shit.

This was shit.

"He better not be on my plane," Casey snarled. "I'll throw 'im off of it. With a parachute that has a hole in it. He'll think he's safe for a while, wearing a parachute 'n all, and then he'll pull the chute and come to the sickening realization that there's a hole in it. The sudden switch from thinking he's safe to knowing he's gonna die would be excruciating."

"I like it," Anna murmured.

Chuck looked back and forth between them for a moment. "You both need help."

He turned back to the screen then and so focused on his own avalanche of bad feelings that he didn't notice Sarah approach until she wedged up next to him.

The room was silent for a while, but then he heard her let out a long breath.

Without another word, she walked out of the room altogether. Everyone stood still, unmoving. Chuck wanted to go after her, chase her down, make sure she was as okay as was possible, considering her ex-partner and ex-boyfriend would literally be providing color commentary to her own matches for pretty much all of America to hear and watch. The saga of the break-up of America's Curling Couple would continue for everyone to see live on television. What a juicy bit of drama for the masses.

And how devastatingly unfair to Sarah, and to a much lesser degree, Chuck as well. It was pretty low for them to offer a contract to Bryce, but they needed viewership, didn't they? Jerks.

He wanted her to know he was here with her, though. And he knew how old school and presumptuous it sounded, but he wished he could protect her from this melodramatic shit show, and help make it so that she could focus on her game the way he knew she wanted to.

God, Twitter and the rest of social media would have a field day with this.

He had to go after her and make sure she was okay.

But then Jane sighed and put a hand on his shoulder, almost as if she knew what he'd been about to do. "I'll talk to her."

As she walked out of the room to follow Sarah, Chuck felt the way the mood of the room plummeted.

Everyone here cared for Sarah Walker. She was more than just a teammate. He'd seen the way they rallied around her, as subtly as possible considering the way she was. Her independence and…well, he didn't know much about her background, really, but he imagined whatever it was might lend to the way everyone sort of tried to keep her from knowing that they were taking care of her. He'd observed quite a bit when he first arrived months earlier. Bryce hadn't been afforded the same treatment, and when he'd pulled that crap and abandoned the team, and Sarah mostly, the antipathy was strong—for lack of a better word.

Chuck backed away from the article, not even wanting to know what the hell Entertainment News had to say about the once It Couple of sports, not wanting to know what they had to say about Sarah Walker in general.

The last three weeks, he'd found himself getting lost in the social media rabbit hole, letting the negativity get under his skin. Some curling fans were predicting these Olympic games in PyeongChang would be the last of Sarah's career in the sport. And her team-up with the failed ski jumper and curling nobody Chuck Bartowski would implode soon into the tournament.

A zero out of seven record was predicted for the mixed doubles round-robin.

They said it would be too much for Sarah and she'd quit altogether, become a recluse, because she was the one in the couple who was less outgoing. The "Ice Queen" would build herself a castle out of ice and stay in it forever, causing there to be Winter forever, they joked, using pictures of that white-haired Disney princess from that one movie with all of the plot holes and that loud, stupid snowman.

Some of the posts were just about him. There were all sorts of theories about why he was on the team in the first place. Some said he'd known he'd never make it in for ski jumping so he picked the easiest and safest looking sport, but that he had no idea how in over his head he was. Others said Sarah had wanted a pretty boy to replace the one she'd lost in Bryce, but that the coaches had missed the memo on the "pretty" part. Some thought nepotism had kept Chuck on the U.S. Olympic Team, with his sister, brother-in-law, and best friend Morgan Grimes all competing in snow events, so they tossed him onto Sarah Walker's team because she was already on her way out…Without Bryce, where else could she go?

Each one was more insulting than the last, all questioning his ability in the sport. Some made digs on his looks in comparison to Bryce's, others harped on his athletic failures in the past.

It all just went on and on and on and on.

He knew how insanely lucky he was to be where he was.

Being in the Olympics again was a dream come true. Being handpicked by the curling team's coaches to partner with the best curler in the country for the first ever mixed doubles curling event in Olympic history was more than a dream come true. Because he'd never even dared to dream it could happen in the first place.

Maybe there was some truth to the Twitter slander.

Because in spite of being given this amazing opportunity he hadn't even begun to deserve, he'd gone ahead and done something so damn stupid that it could've potentially ended it all. If Sarah wasn't as good of a person as she was, it would've ended. And he wouldn't have blamed her for it.

He was such a damn idiot.

He'd tried to kiss her like a hormonal teenager, an entitled hormonal male teenager, which was exceptionally worse.

It was an hour later when Chuck finally left the showers, his bag over his shoulder, ready to just get home and maybe lose himself in a few hours' worth of exploring and arrowing some machine-animals in Horizon Zero Dawn.

As he strolled down the hall, his mind preoccupied with everything that had happened that day, Lester Patel swerved around the corner.

He pointed at Chuck as he walked towards him. "Chuckiiiiie. Leaving in a few days for the PC in the SK, huh?"

"What?" Chuck frowned in confusion, stopping to face the much shorter man.

"My man, c'mon. PyeongChang. South Korea."

He narrowed his eyes, then rolled them, shaking his head. "Oh. Right. Uh, yeah. I am."

"Listen, mon amigo. Don't be nervous, though. All you can do is your best, right? No matter how our girl Sarah performs."

He felt his hackles rise a bit. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, this whole Bryce thing. I was in the room. I saw how she reacted to finding out he's gonna be there…watching. One, she def isn't over him. Trust me. I know women. And two, that whole couples curling thing worked really well for her, but el solo? Ehhh not sure she can really—"

But the small, greasy-haired man couldn't get much else out before a red screen fell over Chuck's eyes and he had the guy's white button-up in his fist. He hoisted the guy in the air so that his feet dangled a few inches over the floor and he shoved his back against the wall.

"Wha—? My grandma bought me this shirt for my birthday! I—" he tried to squeak, but Chuck cut him off.

"I'm a generally non-violent man, Lester, but if you ever say anything even remotely similar to what you just said where Sarah can hear it, I'll kick your ass." He got another scared squeak in response, and he felt bad about it, calming down enough now that he set the guy on his feet and released his shirt from his fist. "Actually, just don't repeat that bullshit about her at all. Whether she's around or not. Got it?"

"Eeep?"

"Do. You. Understand. Me?"

"Y-Yes." He cleared his throat, running his hands down his shirt nervously. "No, I'm—I'm all about that plan. I'm—Yes, indeedy. I will spread it across the land. I mean, not—I mean the opposite of that. I'm all about this combination. So serious. Team Charah. All the way." He lifted a fist by his head. "Charaaah. Yaaaay."

Chuck just walked away, then, striding out of the hallway into the main lobby and heading for the Curling Center's front door. He was still sore enough, and distracted enough, that he didn't notice anyone else who might've been within earshot of the altercation he'd just had with Lester Patel.


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah Walker was incredibly grateful that she would have a few days before their first match against China and the opening ceremonies, because she could already guess just how hard the jet lag was going to screw her up. She'd only been able to sleep an hour or two in fits and spurts and she'd forgotten sleeping pills. The rest of her team was at the front of the plane and Chuck didn't bring any sleep aids.

And yet, he was conked out next to her. She didn't understand how he did it. Maybe because the lights in the cabin were all turned down low. She thought that must be it. Or maybe he was just one of those lucky people who could fall asleep at will.

Either way, she was not one of those people. And that meant she was sitting here alone with her thoughts on a seventeen hour plane trip. That wasn't even counting the connection flight they took from Seattle.

She turned to glance at her seat partner, her mixed doubles partner, her San Jose roommate, and now her Olympic Village roommate, too. His face was turned away from her, but she could see the outline of his strong jaw, his cute nose that had a bit of a button at the end of it, and his stupidly long eyelashes, too. How was that even fair?

And without even realizing what she was doing, she reached over to fix his blanket that had fallen off of his shoulder, gently moving her fingers up to his curls. She just barely felt their softness under her fingers and pulled back quickly, rolling her eyes at herself and glancing around to make sure no one saw it.

That was the last thing she needed, especially with the way Jane had been fishing ever since that day at the Curling Center when she found out Bryce was going to be the curling commentator. That man thrived on drama, didn't he? He'd made his career with her through false publicity that treated them like a Disney prince and his princess. Then he'd gotten modeling contracts off of the almost cruel publicity that came from their overblown split. And now he was hired to give commentary about curling and she knew it was because people would be watching to see what he said when giving commentary for Sarah's matches with Chuck. He was milking their break-up for everything that it was worth. She hated him for it.

But then again, like Jane had said when she followed her into the lobby that afternoon a few days ago, what else did the poor bastard have going for him? Pffft, like she'd responded then, a modeling career, a model girlfriend… Jane reminded her that he'd gotten that because of the break-up, though. When this all died down, would any of that even last?

Sarah hoped not. She hoped he settled down somewhere far from wherever she was and just…disappeared, frankly. She was done with the nonsense that came from ever meeting him in the first place. She'd grown out of him, away from him.

And it frustrated her that it wasn't as obvious to others that she had. She got why. That conversation with Jane had helped a lot.

_"You're not still stuck on that asshole, are you?"_

_Sarah frowned deeper and crossed her arms, giving Jane a droll look._

_"Well, if you're not, that isn't really coming through. The angry way you left the lounge looked to me, and probably to everyone else in there, like he's still got his pretty boy claws in you." Sarah must've given her a harsher look because she held her hands up in surrender. "I'm just giving you some truth you may need to hear."_

_Sarah huffed and nodded, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. "I am done with him. By the time he broke it off, there wasn't anything there anymore. I just didn't do anything about it because it was…easy."_

_"I'm sure the sponsorships helped." Sarah glared. "Hey, I ain't judgin'. If I got a sponsorship just for being with a guy, I'd stay around that guy even if there wasn't even a thread of romance left anymore. That's money curlers don't usually get." She shrugged._

_"Exactly. But I immediately felt better when I wasn't with him anymore, in spite of the whole mess of things that it came with. So I swear to you, I am over him. I am. It's just…" She sighed. "It stings. I'm trying to progress, move forward with my life, with this partnership with Chuck now…And he keeps just popping up in front of my face. I'm freaking sick of it. He's doing this shit on purpose."_

_"Yeah, knowing what I know about Bryce Larkin after these last four years, I'd say you've hit a bullseye with that theory. Imagine the attention he's getting now. Imagine how much more he'll get if you let his being there throw you off your game. You know he wants that shit, the weasel." She grumbled under breath at him and Sarah lifted her eyebrows, nodding slowly. The thing was, Sarah wasn't entirely sure anymore that she could do this without being thrown off her game. Not because Bryce would be there in PyeongChang, but because he wasn't on her team. What if he was the reason why they'd even won the scant amount of matches they'd won in the first place? What if she was the one holding things back?_

_Now he'd left the professional curling community and she was still in it, when she'd been the weak link this whole time…_

_"I don't know, Jane. What if these people are right? What if Bryce was the strong player on the team?"_

_She wasn't prepared for the snort and the laugh. Jane put her hand on her shoulder and looked at her through her eyelashes. "Are you seriously serious right now, Sarah?"_

_Sarah shrugged._

_"Oh, girl. Never ever ever let a man make you feel like this. It's exactly what they want. They dump you and leave you by the side of the road, hoping you miss them, leaving you with this vision of them that is way better than reality." She shook her head. "Trust me, I know. I'm almost forty years old and I have seen my fair share of men just like Bryce Larkin. He was not better than you. Not at being a person, let alone at curling." She huffed and shook her head. "Do you really not know that you're the best curler in this whole damn country? If anything he was dragging you down and we all saw it. I saw it, Casey, Tyler, Anna, Mark, the rest of the team…Chuck definitely saw it."_

_Sarah turned to look at Jane, unaware of how wide-eyed she was when she did it, or how fast it had been. "What do you mean, Chuck definitely saw it?"_

_Jane shrugged, but Sarah saw a hint of amusement or pleasure or something tugging at the corner of the other woman's mouth. "I don't know. I'm just saying he saw it. The guy worships your curling talents."_

_She tried not to look too pleased by that because things were still…awkward there. She'd almost kissed him and that just wasn't a path she wanted to go down. At all. Not again. He probably was so confused and hurt and mad still, that she'd run out of there like that. She was mad at herself. But she just couldn't compromise this chance at proving she could do this for herself…being an Olympic athlete, winning matches…doing it without Bryce Larkin and without the Curling Couple moniker._

_"Well…thank you, Jane. Means a lot. I just get caught up in my head, I guess."_

_"Stop freakin' going on Twitter, for God's sake. It's basically hell on Earth. I see the shit your so-called fans post. Based on that creepy calling you 'mom' and Bryce 'dad' shit, they have some serious issues and just please, please stay away from it. Don't listen to them. Don't do anything because of what they say. You hear me? I'm older than you."_

_Sarah chuckled and nodded. "I hear you. Got it. You should probably tell Chuck that, though. I have a feeling he looks at Twitter too much. And I know they say horrible things about him." She winced. "I feel bad. It's kinda my fault in a way."_

_"Pfft. Assholes are gonna be assholes no matter what material they get, or from where." She chuckled then. "It's funny, I legitimately did not like Chuck Bartowski for at least a month when Beckman first dragged his tall ass onto our team."_

_"What?" Sarah frowned. "Why?"_

_"Some random-ass kid shows up, just gets magically 'recruited' onto the team," she said, doing air quotes with her fingers, "we're suddenly supposed to fold this novice into our clique? No. Nuh uh. And he was some kinda goody-two-shoes, always smiiiiling, being nice to everybody. Suckin' up. Mmm mm."_

_Sarah felt her hackles raise and she sat up a bit straighter. "Well, that's just Chuck. He wasn't sucking up. He's just a genuinely nice person. Thoughtful. Kind. Always thinking of others. It's how he is inherently. And I mean, it wasn't random. Beckman knew what she was doing…"_

_Jane held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa. Okay, Miss Defensive." That amused and/or pleased pull at her lips was back again and Sarah had a feeling she knew what it was now, so she decided it best to just shut up. "The guy is a good damn curler, even for being so new to the sport and to the team. He's proven himself worthy. He can hang with us." She smirked. "I thought he was entitled, showing up and thinking he could play in the big leagues. But nah. He can play in the big leagues, and he's the least entitled guy I've ever met. That includes the rest of the men on our team." She rolled her eyes and Sarah snorted quietly. "He's actually the perfect partner for you, I think."_

_Sarah gave her friend a dubious look._

_"He is. Because he is working hard to make sure he's earning this opportunity. I see him hard at work every time I'm here at the center. Researching, working out in the gym, talking strategy with Casey, much to the big guy's chagrin sometimes. This one time I walked in on them talking in the lounge, I'm pretty sure Casey just wanted to enjoy his cheesesteak in peace."_

_The younger woman laughed and shook her head. "I can see it."_

_"But most importantly, Chuck is devoted to you." Sarah just barely held back a choking sound and instead made it into a pointed clear of her throat, giving Jane Bentley the flattest look she could muster. She knew exactly what she was playing at, and especially in light of what had happened a few weeks earlier in that hotel room in Mammoth, there was no way she was giving this woman any kind of fodder for that line of thinking. "To the team," Jane said, a smirk on her face. "Your mixed doubles team, I meant. Of course."_

_"Of course," Sarah drawled, shaking her head._

But because life seemed to get a kick out of throwing Sarah Walker for a loop, she'd overheard Chuck and Lester in the hallway not fifteen minutes later. Jane had left and she was going back towards the lounge to grab her things and head out herself, skipping the workout she'd planned on. She heard Lester first, flippantly insulting—and never really meaning much harm, Sarah knew, but God the guy had no idea about social cues.

It hurt to hear him talk that way, especially after what Jane said, about them all thinking Bryce was the weak link in the team, that Sarah was the strongest curler. Apparently not everyone thought that.

Apparently not everyone had faith that she could do this without her erstwhile partner, with this new partner.

But then she'd heard a loud thump and a whimper of fear. And she'd quickly peeked around the corner to watch as Chuck royally handed Lester's ass to him. The way he'd threatened him, told him to never repeat "that bullshit about her" to anyone, let alone around her. The look on his face. The look on _Lester's_ face.

She'd never seen Chuck that way. He was always so…warm and jolly, self-deprecating, loose, thoughtful. He'd been tight, tense, jaw clenched, eyes flashing and dark…

And damn her for being turned on by the whole thing.

She hated herself for it. She really did. Because she was trying to stop the feelings that had made her try to kiss him in that hotel room. This definitely didn't help. He'd stuck up for her in a big way. And the way he'd called Lester's theory bullshit meant he genuinely did believe she could do this. Jane confirmed how hard he was working even when Sarah wasn't around.

And that was part of the thing that kind of stung, wasn't it? Chuck hadn't been around much, at least not where she was. And she thought he was purposely avoiding her outside of training. The nights when they'd sat watching TV, sitting on either side of the couch and laughing at the trashy people on the reality shows she watched with no small amount of shame. Making meals together on the rare occasion. Buying equipment together. Carpooling.

He even bought a cheap, second-hand bicycle to ride to training sessions, claiming it was good for his workout regimen. She knew he did it so that they weren't forced to sit in the car together for the ten minute drive to the Curling Center from their apartment.

And it hurt.

Because that almost-kiss aside, she'd grown to genuinely enjoy the friendship that had blossomed there. She'd missed that the last few weeks. It felt strange being in their apartment alone for the most part, hearing him come in when she was already in bed and assuming he'd waited that long to avoid being alone with her.

Worst than that, she was all too aware of how poorly she'd performed in that last day of the tournament. They'd gotten whooped. Beckman shrugged it off, said it was encouraging they won three of their games. But Sarah wasn't encouraged by the mistakes she'd made. She hadn't slept at all the night before, tossing and turning and thinking about how badly she'd screwed up. Nervous about seeing Chuck at the gym that next morning, wondering what he thought about her now. Or would he internalize it? Would he think she'd run away because there was something wrong with him?

And it had gotten into her blood.

The fatigue combined with the unsureness about where Chuck's head was at, the lack of focus and concentration, had destroyed her game completely. And Chuck wasn't far behind her.

It was hard not to have doubts about these games and her performance after struggling through that third day of the tournament, on top of the way she and her teammate were just so off-balance these last few weeks.

She was drowning in said doubts when Chuck shifted in his seat next to her. She turned to watch as he blinked a few times before moving his gaze to her. He blinked again, looking confused, and she wondered for a moment if he even knew where he was. He looked around, figured it out, and smiled sleepily at her. The entire sequence was probably one of the cutest things she'd seen in awhile, and she smiled back at him. "Hi."

"Hey," he drawled, and then he furrowed his brow, pulling his wrist up to look at his watch. Then he must have realized the time he currently had on his watch meant nothing up here in the middle of the Pacific, because he scoffed at himself and lowered his hand again. "What, uh, what are you doing awake? You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Just having trouble sleeping."

"Oh." He shifted to sit up straight in his seat, letting the blanket fall into his lap and pushing a hand through his messy curls. "You wanna switch seats with me? You'd get this wall here to lean against. Might be more comfortable."

She smiled and shook her head. "No, it's okay. Thanks, though. It's not that I'm uncomfortable. Just a lot on my mind. You know. I'm going to the Olympics and it's kind of a big deal."

"Yeah." He widened his eyes and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. She probably shouldn't have noticed how slowly he let it go again. "I've been before and I'm still nervous, so I can't imagine how you feel."

"Can't you? What about four years ago? That was your first Olympics."

"Oh. Yeah, but…I don't know. It was different. Nobody knew who the hell I was. I didn't get any promotion going into it. I was the third-ranked ski jumper the U.S. sent to the Olympics. There was no pressure except what I put on myself. I put out some good jumps—personal best, as a matter of fact—got to enjoy the games, see my people compete. It was pretty great." He chuckled and shook his head. "This feels…uh, not the same."

She felt her face fall and she looked at the back of the seat in front of her. "You're not wrong."

Sarah hadn't meant for the tone to be there, and he must have picked up on it, because an uncomfortable quiet settled between them then.

"Hey…Sarah. Since we're both awake and we've got some hours yet 'til we land, um…" He let out a long breath and Sarah had no idea what was coming next. She braced herself either way. "I want to clear the air. Between us. Because I owe you an apology. A big one."

She was surprised enough that she couldn't come up with any kind of response. _He_ owed _her_ an apology?

"I'm sorry I crossed the line with you. I overstepped big time, and I'm really sorry, Sarah. There's no excuse for it. I mean, the federation, Becks and Graham, you, everyone else on the team, you all have given me this massive opportunity, one I never even _dreamed_ I'd ever get in a million years. And instead of grabbing the opportunity by the horns and working my ass off to earn the trust you've put in me, I took advantage in the wrong way. I slipped up. You have been so patient and kind, and you were especially kind that night, and I just felt a certain amount of intimacy that…I must have just misunderstood completely." He looked away and shook his head, looking incredibly mortified, and her chest was absolutely aching. "Of course you were nice, that's just you. You're just…so nice. To everyone. I just messed up and I'm really sorry."

She had to clean this up, because he was taking all of it on himself and she felt terrible that he'd carried this around all these weeks. "Chuck, please…You didn't—"

"No, Sarah. I know you're just being nice, making me feel better. But I don't—What I mean is, please let me just get this off my chest. I owe you an explanation for my bad behavior."

She sat back against her seat and nodded, folding her hands in her lap.

"Thank you." Chuck rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Instead of just apologizing the next day, I was so freaking embarrassed that I just…avoided it instead. And then I avoided it the next day and the next day. And things were so…awkward…just off between us. This was my bad, you know?" he said, keeping his voice low thankfully. They were surrounded on all sides by other athletes, after all, and she didn't want this conversation to be heard by anyone. _Not anyone._ "You didn't do anything wrong. It was me. I didn't want you to have to make changes to your lifestyle, or have to go out of your way to avoid me to minimize the amount of uncomfortable situations…So I took it upon myself to do the avoiding. Instead of just apologizing like an adult. Took me four weeks to do this just about, and I'm not proud of it. At all. I made a mistake and then dealt with it like an immature moron. Like, this was some middle school behavior and I have no excuse. I'm just sorry."

His voice finally drifted off and he rolled his head to the side towards the window, reaching out to slip it open. It was pitch black out there, but he was looking anyway. Probably because he was mortified.

"You bought that bicycle to avoid me…" She knew it wasn't right, but she was almost amused at the thought of it. He really _was_ silly.

Chuck winced as he turned back and shrugged. "It was twenty-five bucks on Craigslist. And I didn't want…I didn't want you to have to figure out some way to keep from being in the car with me ten to fifteen minutes each way to and from practice, so I just thought I'd make it easier on you and bike there."

"Chuck, that's—You didn't have to do that. You shouldn't have felt like you had to do any of this."

"I'm the one who leaned in to kiss you that night, I'm the one who ruined the nice time we were having by trying to make this into something it isn't."

"No, Chuck, you aren't."

"I—What?" He blinked.

She smiled a little. "I'm not gonna lie, I felt like I was the one leaning in." His brow furrowed in question. "Chuck, I'm so sorry I let you carry this burden this whole time. That almost-kiss wasn't something you did alone. I was equally involved. Th-That was why I pulled back so fast. It wasn't you…"

He groaned softly. "Please don't 'it wasn't you, it was me' about this. Please."

Sarah giggled and shook her head. "I'm not. I ran away from you because I wanted to kiss you, not because I _didn't_ want to." His eyes slowly widened at that revelation, but he still looked so adorably confused.

This wasn't something she wanted right now, not when she was about to curl in an Olympic tournament for the first time ever in her life. And, depending on how it went, perhaps the last time. But she wasn't going to let him internalize her resistance and think there was something wrong with him.

She had yet to discover anything that was wrong with him. Everything about him just felt…right.

"Chuck, I spent the last three years curling with Bryce in mixed doubles events. We became media darlings to the point where I felt trapped in that situation. It's…not great that the next partner I work with after my first partner dumps me, I end up trying to kiss him on a bed in a hotel room after a game." She kept her eyes on his, willing him to understand. "I don't want to get a reputation. That's part of it. Sarah Walker always dates her partner. I can just see the bullshit posts about it on social media. And I just—I don't want that distraction to be there when I'm trying to compete in the Olympics."

Silence settled between them for a few moments, and then he shifted and let out a long sigh. "You _wanted_ to kiss me?" She gave him a flat look, unable to keep from seeing the humor in it. "I-I'm sorry," he rushed out, almost whispering now. "I promise, I heard everything you said. It just…surprises me that you actually wanted—Wait, so the intimacy I felt? I didn't make that up?"

"I don't think so. Haven't you felt it, Chuck? Building?"

"Yes," he breathed immediately, a dreamy look on his face. "I thought it was just me."

"Well, it wasn't." She sighed. "It _isn't_. I just…I can't let this be a distraction. _We_ can't let this be a distraction. I don't want to fall into the media's narrative: me hopping from Bryce to Chuck, my new partner. I don't want to see any shitty tabloid headlines about you being a rebound or someone I'm using to make Bryce jealous, because I know they will. I know how that crap works now."

He nodded. "No, I hear you. I heard you the before, too. I just got a little…caught up in the first thing. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "I understand, Sarah. It wouldn't look very good if we allowed anything to…erm…happen. But I—I need you to know. I didn't take this job, I didn't join this team, this partnership, expecting anything from you except what we do together out on that ice, during matches and in training. I'd never presume you'd ever—" He shook his head, eyes wide. "I'm basically over here with my brain malfunctioning over the idea of you wanting to kiss me, so of course I'd never expect you to _date me_." He huffed. "Especially knowing the way the media's been treating you, a-and me, I never thought the fact that you were romantically involved with your last partner meant you'd wanna be romantically involved with me. I guess that's the point I'm trying to make. And badly."

Chuck shut his eyes, obviously embarrassed. She needed to set him at ease, though. She could see he was unraveling. So she reached over and threaded her fingers through his and squeezed his hand. "I don't think you're doing all that badly. It's actually pretty sweet. I'm starting to realize 'pretty sweet' is a constant thing with you, and maybe that's why it was so easy for me to throw caution to the wind for those few moments that night. I like you, Chuck."

She didn't pick up on it at the time, but something happened inside her when she witnessed the way he practically melted into his seat, a warm smile stretching over his face and wrinkling his nose. "Well." He cleared his throat and straightened up again, scratching the back of his head. "I tend to be kind of transparent, so I think you probably already know that I like you."

Sarah beamed, shifting in her seat to face him better. "I know. I mean…I've known."

"Doesn't bode well for the rest of this tournament, though. Since I've done such a poor job of hiding it up 'til now." He chuckled.

"I believe in you."

"Aw, thanks," he drawled, making her giggle.

She inadvertently leaned in closer to him, feeling fatigue start to really take over, a strange sense of ease coming upon her now that the air between them was cleared, now that he knew where she stood. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn't…and strangely enough, she was okay with it.

"For the record, this is the first time I've felt like we were on the same page in weeks," he said then, smiling slowly at her. It made her blood heat up a bit.

"Yeah. Agreed. So we…we focus on the matches, on our strategies, on winning as many as we can. Right?"

"Right. No romance stuff. Just curling."

"Just curling," she repeated. "We both owe it to ourselves to have the best tournament of our lives."

"We do." He paused then, biting his lip and wrinkling his nose with a one-shouldered shrug. "But after? What happens then?"

God, maybe this would be difficult. But she was willing to do whatever it took to prove herself in PyeongChang, to succeed not in spite of Bryce not being her teammate, but because he wasn't her teammate. She'd show everybody. Most important of all, she'd show herself.

"One thing at a time, Chuck."

**-oooo-**

Chuck Bartowski straight up gawked at the apartment as he stepped inside. Sarah was already squealing at it, and he found himself gawking at her then, because he had never heard a sound like that come out of that woman before.

He didn't judge.

"This is amazing!" he gasped. "Oh my God!"

"Look at the little pillows on our couch!" She grabbed one and threw it at him.

Chuck caught it with a yelp and turned it over to look at it. It was red and blue with U.S.A. printed on it in white letters. "Whaaaat? This is so cool!"

"And the view, oh my God. Look!"

He scurried up next to her and peered out of their window, looking at the beautiful slopes stretching up the mountain outside. "Ellie's gonna be on that. Maybe. I actually don't know where the alpine courses are but it's something I mean to find out. I refuse to miss her races."

She grinned. "I'll go with, as long as we can at least see one of the snowboarding events. Your friend—Morgan, was it? The short guy with the beard we met at the airport when we landed. I dunno, I was way tired and a little loopy. But I want to see him do that halfpipe thing."

"Deal." He stuck a hand out and they shook.

Because that was just the way things seemed to be going between them now, they both held on a little longer than was necessary. Amusement came across both their faces and they broke it off, Sarah moving away from him with a bit of a look over her shoulder as she stepped into the part of the apartment with their beds.

Chuck let out a slow breath and followed after her.

"Whoooaaaaaa! These are pretty big beds. PyeongChang went all out. And look at the little people doing the different events on the bedspreads. Thaaat's adorabllllle." He dropped his bags at the foot of the bed furthest from the window and jumped up into the air, landing on the mattress with a bouncy _fwoomp!_ "Ugh, this is stupidly comfortable."

"Well, I guess you've picked your bed, then."

He sat up, eyes wide. "Oh! Did you want this one? I didn't—"

She just laughed at him and shook her head, tossing one of her suitcases onto the end of the other bed. "I don't care. I was just messing with you." She sobered a bit then as she leaned down to grab the card on the nightstand next to her bed. "Hey, it says we get to keep the bedding."

He didn't know why she happened to glance over at him right then, but when their eyes met, they both looked away quickly.

There was suddenly a knock on their door.

Chuck frowned and climbed up to his feet, exchanging a look with Sarah before going into the other room to open the door.

"HEY!"

Morgan threw his hands up over his head and leaned back, letting out a loud Chewie cry.

Chuck made his fingers into a gun. "Peeeooom! I shot first!"

They both laughed and lunged together in a tight hug.

When they broke apart, Morgan smacked him on the chest with an open hand. "My man, Chuck! How's it goin', dude? You two settlin' in okay?"

"Yeah! How'd you know where they put me?"

His best friend made a 'please' face and pointed to himself. "The Beard knows, dude." Chuck gave him a flat look and he shrugged. "Nah, I texted Ellie and asked her. I figured she'd know."

His eyes flicked to something over Chuck's shoulder then. Chuck turned and saw Sarah standing there, smiling tentatively with her arms crossed over her chest.

"There's Sarah! Hi! Great! This is perfect. We all have to stay awake for as long as we can and some of my snowboard brethren are going to the hot tubs—"

"Oh, I, uh, I don't—" Chuck tried, feeling dread go through him.

"Nah, don't worry, I got you covered, dude. Do you really think I've got my best hot tub body goin' on right now? No! In fact, I added a bit of blubber in the lead up to the Olympics, 'cause I was like, dude, I'm gonna be in some cold-ass weather and I gotta keep warm, y'know?" He shook his head. "No way am I getting in a hot tub. I was gonna say, there are video game consoles down in the lounges and nobody was using 'em!"

Relief flooded through Chuck. "Oh thank God."

"Dude, come on. There are some stupidly good-looking dudes in my event. I am not about to take my shirt off and stand next to those Adonis mo'fo's. I'll never get an Olympic girlfriend like that."

"An Olympic girlfriend?" Sarah asked as Chuck opened the door wider and let Morgan sneak into the room a bit.

"Yeah. Listen, I've only got the one halfpipe event. So much extra time for extracurriculars." His grin shone bright behind his beard.

"Why are we friends?" Chuck asked.

"Dude, don't even. Four years ago you were pullin' like— _mfffffff!_ " Chuck slapped a hand over Morgan's mouth and turned to grin innocently at Sarah.

"You pulled, huh?" she asked, raising her eyebrow. "Is that why people come to the Olympics?"

"Athletics," he said. "Athletics only."

Morgan shoved his hand away. "Yeah. Athletics. Right. That's how we get here, but then once we get here…"

"Stop. Please. Let's go play video games. Wanna play video games, Sarah?"

"Uhhh…I think maybe…"

"C'mon, Sarrr," the Bearded One drawled. "If we leave you here, you're going to sleep and then jet lag is going to catch up to you later and your whole sleeping schedule will be off. TRUST, girl. Trust."

She gave him a look. "All right, fine. But don't ever call me Sar again."

Morgan bowed deeply at the waist. "My lady, I will not. I promise."

"Good."

She opened the door and was the first out into the hallway, badge in hand. "You guys coming?"

Chuck exchanged a look with Morgan, smirking a little, and then he followed Sarah, pulling his own badge out from the inner pocket of his Team U.S.A. jacket. "Let's do this."

**-oooo-**

Sarah heard things come out of her mouth that she'd never thought she'd ever hear come out of her mouth.

Things like, "Don't you freaking blow my head off! I'll blow your head off!"

And, "Stop bunny hopping, you nimble asshole!"

And also, "Just domed your ass! Suck it!"

But all in all, she found playing video games was a pretty enjoyable situation when there were other people to compete against. And when she knew what she was doing. She saw Chuck playing video games all the time in their apartment in San Jose when they were preparing for the Olympics. But she'd just given him a look when he'd invited her to play. She wished she'd accepted his invitation now, though, because she would've whooped this British bobsledder at whatever this war game was called even harder than she already did.

Chuck's hand jutted in front of her and she let go of the controller with one hand and slapped it hard. "That's right!"

"I don't know if I am more emasculated or turned on," her opponent said, pushing a hand through his hair and shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day Cole Barker would lose a game to a girl, but here we are."

"Woman," Sarah said, dropping the controller onto the couch between them with the flourish of a mic drop.

"I stand corrected, and I think turned on wins the day," he said, giving her a look.

Sarah inwardly rolled her eyes so hard she almost fell off of the couch. "Morgan, how'd I do? I don't feel like my opponent was much of a challenge this time, so it's hard to gauge."

She heard Chuck's, "Oh ho ho hoooo!" and saw him put a fist to his mouth in her peripheral.

Standing up from the couch, she turned to face Morgan where he'd planted himself behind her to give her helpful pointers. It seemed he had yet to pick his jaw up from the floor. Chuck reached out to nudge his wrist and he shook himself. "You might be a virtuoso. That was inspired, Sarah Walker."

She bowed. "Thank you. Anybody want some hot cocoa?"

They declined and she headed over to the snack table by herself. It wasn't until she grabbed herself a cup and tried to shimmy towards the hot cocoa machine that she realized Cole Barker the Bobsled Pilot had joined her. He was blocking her path to the hot cocoa and it was annoying.

"Let me get that for you, milady," he said, his voice silky and smooth. And the way he took the cup from her hand, his fingers brushing hers, left no questions in her mind as to what his goal was here. She thought maybe if she was someone else, in some other situation, she might be interested in Cole Barker. But she was Sarah Walker, in this situation, and she wasn't interested. Flattered, sure. Of course.

He filled the cup with hot cocoa and handed it back to her. "There you are."

"Thanks."

"Where'd you learn to play like that?"

"Oh, we've actually been at that game for hours today. I've got two great coaches. They made real inroads with my technique, and now look at me," she said, taking a careful sip of the steaming drink. "A pro."

He chuckled and popped his eyebrows. "I'm really impressed. If only there was an Olympic Video Game medal, you'd take it over a lot of the guys I've met here."

"No, probably not. But I'll settle for whooping your ass, bobsledder."

The look he gave her left nothing to the imagination. "So what are you here for? Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess."

She let him run his eyes up and down her just this once. It was kind of refreshing that this guy didn't know what sport she was here for, who she was. Someone who didn't know about the drama with Bryce Larkin and Sarah Walker.

"…Alpine skier. That, uh, giant slalom thing."

"Nope."

"Well, if I could see a little leg, I might be able to tell if you're in a sliding sport—luge, skeleton?"

"You will not be seeing my legs."

"Shame."

"And no, I'm not in luge or skeleton."

"Hockey?" She shook her head. "You're a figure skater. You've absolutely got that look. Out of this world beauty, grace…"

"Ha, no."

"I'm really striking out here."

_In more ways than one_ , she wanted to say. But there was no reason for her to be outwardly mean. Yeah, he was entitled and apparently thought a lot of himself. But she thought maybe all bobsledders were like this. They jumped into a sled and zoomed down an ice chute of death. She imagined they were confident in a lot of aspects of their lives.

She took another long sip and said nothing.

"Again, you won't let me see your legs so I can't be sure but speed skating?"

Sarah chuckled and shook her head. "Oh hell no. That shit's so dangerous. I'd never do that."

Cole laughed and leaned a bit closer. She leaned back, even took a bit of a step back.

"I am throwing in the towel. What's your sport, gorgeous?" He grabbed his own cup and got some of the hot cocoa, taking a sip and making a face. "Ugh. This is terrible. You haven't had real hot cocoa until you've had hot cocoa in Paris. I could take you there. It'd be an adventure."

Sarah took a deep breath and let it out slowly, twisting her lips to the side and narrowing her eyes. "I think this is pretty good hot cocoa. And unfortunately, no adventures for me. After these games are over, I've got another bonspiel calling my name. Have to train for that."

"Bon-whatnow?"

"Bonspiel. It's a curling tournament."

His jaw dropped. "You're in curling! I never would have guessed!"

She shrugged.

"That's pretty hot. I hear those stone thingies are, like, fifty pounds." Then he leaned in and pointed. "And I like my women with brooms in their hands. Ha!" She gave him a sharp look and he held up his hand in surrender, wincing. "That was a joke. Bad joke. Bad joke, I regret it."

"You should." She took another sip from her hot cocoa and made to walk away but he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

"I'm sorry for the bad joke, but I'm pretty sincere about my interest, here. You're an exciting woman, Sarah. This is a long Olympics. I'd like to get to know you. Yes, we're from different countries, but the U.S. and the U.K. became pretty good friends after the whole Revolutionary War thing blew over." He smirked. "I like you. I think we could do amazing things, you and me."

"Thank you for the thought. Really. But I have a lot to focus on."

"Are the other three women on your team as stunning as you are?"

Sarah snorted and turned to glance over her shoulder at the couch where she'd left Chuck and Morgan. The former had very obviously been watching, and he whipped around fast to face the TV again when she looked at him. She felt a smile threaten, and then it broke over her face as she wondered what he was thinking about. "I think he's pretty cute, but I haven't seen enough of him to say he's stunning."

"I, uh, I don't follow."

"That's my partner. Chuck. I'm in mixed doubles."

"What's that mean?"

"It's a team of two. One man, one woman."

"That sounds sexy. How do I get into this sport?"

Sarah rolled her eyes outwardly this time. "A lot of hard work, studying, training, competing."

"I think I could handle that. Then maybe you could replace your current partner with me?"

"Not even if you went through all the bullshit to become a U.S. citizen."

"Fine," he chuckled. "I'm sure it's all much harder than it looks. I have no concept of what goes into other sports after bobsledding for so long. That is _not_ easy."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"But if I can't be your curling partner, maybe I can partner with you in some other way?" Then he narrowed his eyes and glanced over at the couch again. She followed his gaze and giggled quietly at the sight of Morgan yelling and climbing onto Chuck, mimicking beating him up as Chuck laughed and fought him off half-heartedly. "Unless, uh…he's more than your partner."

The way he snorted at that let her know he thought that wasn't a possibility.

She wasn't going to tell him she'd probably spend the next two weeks resisting the urge to use the fact that she was in the same apartment with Chuck to make out with his face. If she didn't resist that, the figurative bases would end up obliterated in a hot second. She just knew it. She could feel it in her bones.

Especially now that they'd finally leveled with each other on the plane. And in spite of what they'd agreed upon, Sarah had slept for the rest of the flight holding his hand under the blankets. And she'd secretly thought it wasn't fair that he'd spent at least the last hour of it awake. He'd gotten to experience an intimacy she wasn't privy to while she slept…and she wasn't likely to experience any intimacy in the next two and a half weeks. They had a tournament to win.

Well, not win, but…try to win.

"I'm not sure it's your business, but…no, he isn't," she finally said.

"Splendid." Cole Barker grinned. "How about a number where I can reach you?"

Sarah kept the mischief she suddenly felt away from her features and she reached over to grab his hand, pulling a pen out of her jacket…it was a habit Chuck had recently gotten her into. He always kept a pen handy if he needed to write something down, whether it was strategy or something else. She'd quietly started keeping pens on her person, too.

She wrote down a number on his hand.

And she felt good about it when she saw the confident smirk on his face. "Really…Well…Message received."

She just smirked one last time and tossed her empty cup in the trash bin, strolling back to the couch where Chuck and Morgan were both watching this time. She swayed her hips a bit for extra effect.

"Sarah," Morgan whispered as the three of them left the room a few moments later. "Did you just give infamous bobsledding two time medalist Cole Barker your phone number?"

"It was actually a room number," she said.

She felt Chuck tense beside her. But he didn't say anything as Morgan let out a loud, "Daaaaaammmmmnnnnnnn! I mean I'm not surprised you've got game but still daaaammmnnn!"

Sarah met Morgan's high five and laughed. They said goodnight to Morgan, and as soon as the elevator door shut behind him as he got off on his floor, she was left alone with Chuck. And because he was Chuck, he didn't say anything for a bit.

But she could see he was confused, probably even jealous. She let herself enjoy how incredibly cute jealous Chuck was for a few more moments.

"I really hope he enjoys what he finds when he decides to show up at that room number I gave him," she said, careful not to let her amusement show on her face yet.

"Wait…" He frowned at her. "What room number did you give him?"

The door swept open, and as she stepped out of the elevator, she chirped over her shoulder, "Beckman's."

The sound of his hysterical laughter followed her all the way down the hallway.


	5. Chapter 5

Curling was so different from the ski jumping competition.

That was the first thing that struck him right between the eyes as he and Sarah were led from Gangneung Curling Centre's prep room by attendants towards the massive curling arena.

In Sochi, they'd had a room where all of the jumpers sat on little benches, psyching themselves out, listening to music, rarely talking to one another, putting their ski boots on, checking their gear, until it was their turn to jump. The little room was all the way at the top of the hill, just behind the starting area.

Here, they were tucked somewhere in the belly of the building, down a few hallways, a turn and another turn and another turn, until they got to a sort of tunnel that reminded him of what soccer players walked out of when stepping onto the pitch for the first time.

It was a dim tunnel, long and dim, and he could hear this almost silent hush…

Then they stepped out of the tunnel into the bright lights of the arena and he realized that silent hush was just the crowd being _so loud_ , louder than anything he'd ever heard in his life, that it had almost been like a whisper.

It was such an insane phenomenon that he nearly distracted himself from the fact that a couple thousand people were seated in the stands above, surrounding the multiple curling sheets.

Other teams were already setting up, preparing to start their matches, and Chuck, Sarah, and the Chinese team they were facing were all led to the sheet furthest away, in the back right corner of the arena.

"Okay, this…Wow," he heard Sarah mutter beside him as they walked around the other matches and came upon their own sheet.

"I didn't realize there'd be this many people," Chuck said. "I've never seen this many people. This is what I imagine a Vegas boxing match to be like. And this isn't boxing. It's _curling_."

Sarah sent him a look and he winced.

"I mean, no offense to curling but this _is_ South Korea and this _isn't_ speed skating we're doin' here. It's _curling_." He shrugged as she rolled her eyes at him. "Anyway, this pale blue color they're making us wear doesn't flatter me at all. But just so you know, it really brings out your eyes like…" He finished with a choir of angels sound and swept his hand across the air in front of him with a flourish.

"Hey. Stop that. We're being mic'd for TV, remember?"

Chuck cursed inwardly. He'd forgotten. That meant he really had to pay attention to what he said and how he said it. _Damn it._

They stood off to the side and allowed their microphones to be clipped onto their pale blue shirts, Chuck just barely catching a miserable look on Sarah's face before she smoothed it over with that curling spy mask she got whenever a match started. He loved that look. It meant she was dialed in, he'd discovered in that tournament a few weeks earlier.

They went through the whole process then, and once everything was set up, they threw their first rock.

Somehow, they managed to survive the first End forcing only one point for China, which was a win considering Li Wei Hu had somehow managed to land three of their rocks closer to the button than Chuck had hoped for. But thankfully Sarah had been tapped to throw their first and last rocks in the End, and her last shot had taken out two of China's rocks.

But even though Chuck and Sarah had come back to score two in the next End, the third and fourth Ends had meant giving up four points, leaving the match halfway finished with two points to China's five.

Thankfully the microphones were turned off for that halftime period and Chuck was assured he could speak freely. He guzzled some water and wiped the sweat from his face, cornering Sarah a bit as she sat back against the wall and took some deep, controlled breaths.

She was sitting on the ground, so he had to crawl down to kneel in front of her.

"Hey. I'm not angry with you or anything, but what happened with that miss in the last End? You never miss a shot like that. Other people do, but never you. Are you okay?" he asked, handing her a water as she opened her eyes. He noticed she'd finished her other one.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a stupid miss. I wasn't concentrating, fingers slipped a bit on the rock's handle when I let it go."

Chuck didn't buy it. But that was probably because she wasn't selling it.

And she got a look on her face like she he wasn't buying it, before she sighed and cracked open the water bottle, throwing back a quarter of the bottle and lowering it to set on the floor beside her again. "Fine, it—You're going to judge me or make assumptions."

"I don't assume, because it makes an ass out of u-m-e."

Sarah lowered her chin, giving him a droll look.

"Sorry. I really won't, though. I promise."

"It was a really quick thing and I'm seriously super mortified that I let it happen. Just incredibly ashamed, but…" She sighed again, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, tilting her head back. "There are some American fans in the stands right behind the house. I looked up to see where you were telling me to place my throw and I saw a sign that said 'Marry me, Bryce' and the person sitting next to her was holding a giant Bryce head on a stick." She groaned covering her face. "I saw it right as I was throwing and that's why it was such a bad shot."

Chuck didn't say anything, just watching as she verbally kicked herself, muttering, "Damn it I'm so stupid. So freaking stupid."

And when she peeked back up at him, he just smiled in understanding. "I saw that, too. When we first came out. I'm really sorry, Sarah. I wish people weren't so terrible at having tact."

"But that's the thing! Even if they _did_ have tact and I hadn't seen the signs, something else would have reminded me that Bryce is sitting up there in a booth somewhere, talking to however many millions of Americans watching this on TV right now. He's giving commentary on my play, and I keep thinking about how pleased he must be with himself. I hate that they did this to me." She huffed and smacked her water bottle, knocking it into the wall.

Chuck moved from kneeling to sitting, grunting, and then he scooted a bit closer to her so the other two teams in the room couldn't hear them. "If the thought of Bryce watching you take your shots is what's causing you to feel this way, I mean just think…wouldn't he be watching this on TV anyway? Even if he wasn't up there somewhere providing commentary for all of America, he'd still be watching you."

She shrugged. "Yeah. But he isn't at home with his Sports Illustrated swimsuit model girlfriend watching me fail without him. He's here. And he gets to tell all of America what he thinks about it. It pisses me off."

"He has a girlfriend in Sports Illustrated?" She gave him a look and he shook himself. "Uh. Sorry. Not the point. But for the record, that sounds like a downgrade to me. Not that I've ever seen you in a swimsuit. I don't need to!" he rushed out, realizing how this was sounding. "I don't…need…to…see you that way. Not that I'd say no if the opportunity ever arose…Why did I say that? Why am I saying any of this?" He felt pressure on his arm and he realized Sarah had reached up to squeeze his bicep. She had a small, warm smile on her face as she looked up at him.

"Because you're sweet," she said in a quiet voice, and she let go of him quickly as another pair walked near them, but the warmth didn't leave her face.

"The—The point I'm trying to make has nothing to do with his girlfriend. I'm trying to say that with or without his commentary, the decisions we make out there need to be just about us, our brains, our game plan. Just the ice. I'm not letting you down, okay? And I, frankly, don't give half a shit what Bryce sees or what he says about it." She snorted softly and he inwardly melted. "Hey, listen. If you happen to look up and see Bryce's big ol' dumb head on a stick again, imagine instead that it's his head on a spike at the entrance to your impenetrable fortress. A warning," he chuckled as she began to laugh, "to all future partners and boyfriends. They better stay put."

She leaned her head back against the wall and laughed, looking up at the ceiling. And then she lowered her head again to look in his eyes. "All future partners _and_ boyfriends?"

"Uh." He didn't know how to respond but a volunteer came in and told them halftime was over, so he climbed up to his feet and reached down towards Sarah. Their eyes met and she slipped her hand into his, squeezing as he helped her to her feet. "Just us, right?"

"Just us."

He held up a fist and she made a fist of her own to pound it. He made an explosion sound and opened his hand, pulling it back, making her smile and roll her eyes, and then they were back out on the ice again.

They scored two more points in the fifth End. But then they had to force one point to China again, leaving the Americans with four points, and the Chinese with six leading into the seventh End.

Now China had two guards set up and some rocks inside of the eight foot ring, all of them surrounding the rock Sarah had thrown earlier to stop directly in the button. There was another one of Chuck and Sarah's yellow rocks just a few inches away, but there were red rocks closer than any of the yellow rocks Chuck had thrown.

Chuck slid all the way down the sheet to Sarah's side, looking up at the time clock to make sure he didn't use up all of their time. "Their guards are in really good spots."

"I know. But I was thinking I could hit the rock at the top of the eight foot, the one closest to me. Just barely skim it, bounce it out of the way, and just freeze my shooter to our rock on the button."

He just barely resisted a small smile, but he felt a twinge behind his bellybutton. This woman loved making difficult throws. She thrived on it. And if that confidence wasn't the hottest thing…

"Do it," he said then, nodding. "Let's do it."

Chuck could only imagine the commentators going on and on about how this idea was crazy…Sarah might throw too hard and knock the button or the second rock out of contention, handing China points. Instead they could just clear the Chinese rock out of contention and take the two points.

But Sarah wanted three. And he trusted her to get three.

So he slid back over to the house and set his broom out to give her a line of vision, help her set up her shot. "Here good?" he called to her.

"I dunno, is it?"

He smirked. "Throw the rock."

She smirked back and got into position at the hack. She threw the rock then and bounded up to her feet, clearing the ice in front of it here and there.

"Good. Line's good," he said, watching the rock's movement. It needed to go a little faster, though, so he slid over to join her. "I got it." She stepped back and he leaned down to start sweeping harder, as hard as he could, because he could see it starting to slow faster than they wanted it to.

"Line looks good," Sarah called. "Hard! HARD!"

He swept as hard as he could, pulling up when he saw his yellow rock tap the red at just the right speed and angle to roll it out of the way. But then their shooter rolled smoothly to sidle up right next to their rock on the button, freezing to it.

The audience near them clapped loudly, appreciative of the risk they took and that it paid off. Sarah slid up behind him and he felt a hand on his bicep. He turned and thrust his hand out. She smirked and smacked it.

"Good shot, skipper."

"Nice sweeping."

With three more points on the scoreboard next to Walker/Bartowski, they took the lead heading into the last End of the match.

But as meticulous as they were with their throws, the Chinese played a masterful End. Their placement was just perfect, and no matter how much Sarah tried to curl, no matter how well Chuck gauged their sweeping, getting around the Chinese team's rocks was difficult.

With their last shot Li Wei Hu had deadly precision, and they were able to get two points, winning the match eight points to the Americans' seven points. They all shook hands, grabbed their towels and drinks, and filed off of the ice into the tunnel.

"Hey, you two did great," Beckman said, joining them in the tunnel and patting them both on their shoulders. She wedged between them and brought them in close. "That was close to a win."

"But it wasn't a win," Sarah said, and Chuck couldn't have agreed more.

"We have eight more matches coming up. Focus on those. We're gonna be okay. I've got to catch up with Graham, but we'll meet tomorrow morning again. Have fun at the ceremony, eh?" And then she dashed off.

He sat on the bench in the prep room for a few minutes before changing out of his curling shoes and back into his boots, just staring at the wall. He was disappointed, going through things he could have done better. He really, really, really hadn't wanted to lose his first Olympic match with Sarah Walker. He'd wanted to give her a better first result. Especially considering all of the pressure he knew she felt on her shoulders.

Chuck really thought when they took the lead that they could keep it through the eighth End and win, show the haters what they were made of. Make Sarah feel better about the whole Bryce situation. He knew she didn't mean to make him feel this way, but every time she doubted whether she could succeed without Bryce as her partner, it hurt a little. He knew it was crazy important that she have faith in herself, in her own abilities. But he wanted her to have trust in him as her partner. Maybe Bryce was just a bad partner—Beckman had practically confirmed that. And maybe Chuck could be the partner she needed, the partner that opens the door for her to make those decadent throws he knew she could make.

And it just felt…bad whenever she questioned whether she could do it without Bryce. Even if she didn't mean to make him feel that way, he still felt it.

Her hand was on his shoulder then. "You ready to go? We have to hurry back and get ready if we're making the opening ceremony."

"Oh! Yeah! Crap!" He glanced at his watch and quickly changed his shoes, shrugging on his multiple layers, throwing his bag over his shoulder and following Sarah out into the elements.

He shivered as they stepped outside and cursed a little. "It's _freezing_!"

"Well, we are walking around in snow."

That got her a flat look. "I didn't notice."

"Hey, don't be sarcastic with me. We lost. It sucks. But it happened and we just have to deal, California boy."

"Are you calling me California boy because I think freezing temperatures are cold?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am. What are you gonna do about it?" she challenged, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows.

"I'm gonna tell my sister and she's gonna beat you up."

Sarah cackled, and for the first time since they lost their match twenty minutes earlier, she had that sparkle in her eye she'd had the night before when they'd played video games, and then afterwards when they snuck down to the lounge to grab late night snacks and devoured them to stay awake longer and hopefully keep the jet lag at bay.

They'd found a board game in the lounge and took it up to their apartment, spreading it out on the floor of the main room and trying to figure out how to play in spite of the instructions being in Korean. Chuck ended up making up his own game with the pieces, and they stumbled through that, laughing and making sure they stayed hydrated, until they eventually climbed into their respective beds and passed out for ten hours.

It had been perfect.

"Is this something you do often? Letting your big sister beat people up for you?" she asked.

"Yep!" He laughed and shook his head. "No. And if I ever tried to sick her on you, she'd kick my ass instead."

"You'd deserve it."

"I would!" he agreed, chuckling.

They didn't talk about the match they'd lost when they got back to the apartment, instead showering and getting ready.

Chuck showered first and\ donned the Team U.S.A. sweater and jacket, eyeing the gloves with a frown of disdain. Chuck's phone rang as he was rounding up his belongings and badge. Sarah was closest to it, as she was getting her makeup bag, so she grabbed it and tossed it to him. He caught it with one hand, giving her a wide-eyed look.

"What?" she asked with a shrug. "You caught it, didn't you? Trust fall."

He laughed and shook his head, answering his phone. "Oh hi, Ellie."

"Hi, Chuck! Are you guys ready? We're waiting down in the lobby."

"Wait, you're in _my_ lobby?" He turned to see Sarah disappear into the bathroom. "How'd you get ready and come over here so fast?"

Ellie was staying with the other downhill skiers outside of the main Olympic Village, which had been a big disappointment, since Devon had been slotted into the building with the rest of them in the Olympic Village, along with his cross-country teammates for the team event. Granted, she'd sent Chuck pictures and she and her fellow downhill skiers were being treated like royalty.

"Hey, Chuck, remember in high school how I got up in the morning in time to make breakfast, get ready for school, take _you_ to school, and still make first period on time, five days a week?"

"Uh…point taken. Where you guys at? I'm all ready, but Sarah's gonna need another fifteen minutes or so." He raised his voice for Sarah to hear in the bathroom.

"Shut up! Ten minutes!" she yelled back.

"Man, you two aren't even dating and you're really trying that women take forever to get ready crap on her?"

Chuck swallowed thickly. _You two aren't even dating…_

They weren't. They really weren't. But…

"I used the shower first. I fully admit that. I have a fifteen minute head start on her."

"You took a fifteen minute shower, huh? Some things never change."

"Just…Where do I look for you guys?"

"Look for a blond giant standing next to a bearded hobbit—"

"Hey! Points for the Tolkien reference though…" Chuck heard Morgan say on the other side of the phone.

"Shut up, Morgan," Ellie muttered. "We're standing next to a big, weird fake plant thing. I dunno! I don't live in this building! I'm just a guest."

"I'll find you. See ya soon."

Chuck hung up and slipped his phone in his pants pocket, then pulled the Team U.S.A. beanie on over his curls. "I'm heading down to find Ellie, Devon, and Morgan…"

Sarah popped out of the bathroom, mascara in hand. "Oh. Is that who you're walking with?" She made a face and rolled her eyes at herself. "Of course, that's your family."Realization came over him. The curling team was who he was technically supposed to march with. But his sister, brother-in-law, and best friend were all here, too. "Oh…Oh, I thought maybe—I know I technically should be—"

"No, no." She brushed him off. "Walk with your family. Who cares what they tell you to do?"

"Yeah. I'll let you know where we are, though."

"Great." She smiled and ducked back into the bathroom, and he grabbed the stupid gloves from the desk and pulled them on, rolling his eyes as he left the apartment, patting his pockets to make sure he had his key, wallet, phone, and badge around his neck.

It took him a few minutes to get down to the lobby, climbing into the elevator with athletes from the U.S., Germany, Iceland, and the elevator picked up the Danish bobsled team as well.

The Danish bobsled team, he could get behind. But he wouldn't be rooting for the bobsled team from Great Britain anytime soon. It was immature and petty, and Sarah did royally wreck the guy both in video games and by giving him Beckman's room number. He would've given anything to see the guy's face when Beckman answered the door. Then again, she hadn't mentioned anything, so maybe Cole Barker hadn't shown up yet.

Chuck would have Sarah's back if Becks tried to come after her for it, though.

He was feeling pretty positive about things in general, if a bit bummed that he wouldn't be walking with Sarah and the rest of the curling squad. Should he have stayed with her? He thought maybe she could use a bit of a break from him, if only for this one night of the opening ceremony. Some space, so to speak. Though she hadn't asked for it, per se.

As he ambled into the lobby, using his pretty exceptional height to look over people's heads and see if he could spot Devon or Ellie, or maybe even a glimpse of a dark, infamous beard that had inspired so many signs in so many snowboarding competitions over the years, Chuck was immediately disappointed to see the last person on Earth he wanted to see.

Bryce Larkin caught his eye, Chuck cursed under his breath, and he stepped behind some snowboarders. Damn it, though, snowboarders were so short. Damn it damn it. He made a beeline for a more empty spot sanctioned off from the rest of the room then.

But that was a mistake, because when Bryce followed him, they were now in a place where the jerk would find it much easier to speak with him.

"Hey, Chuck!"

Chuck didn't bother plastering a fake smile on his face. He just sighed and pressed his lips together. "Oh hi, Bryce."

"Were you, uh, were you just running from me?"

"What? No."

"Kay." The guy definitely didn't believe him, but whatever, he was a jerk. "How's it goin'? Cool outfit, there."

"Oh. Yeah. These gloves make me feel like Buffalo Bill, but…whatever. Say, don't the media folks have their own digs off-campus somewhere? Somewhere fancier than this?" he asked, feeling a little silly for it but straightening his back and shoulders to make himself that much taller than Bryce.

"Yeah, we do. Real nice. But I was, uh, looking for the curling team."

Chuck felt a burning sensation slip up and down his spine. Was it jealousy? Protectiveness? Or, worse, was it possessiveness? He didn't want it to be that.

"What do you want my team for?" _My team_ , he emphasized in his brain. _Not yours. Mine._ Bryce had abandoned those people, that team. He'd abandoned Sarah.

"Well, I _am_ the curling commentator for NBC, funny guy." He grinned, and damn him, it was genuinely charming. Everything sucked. "I was gonna ask 'em a few questions about the competition, see how they like the town. I'll settle for you."

"Oh great, thanks," he drawled in a dry tone.

"I don't mean it like…like I'm _settling_ settling. You are part of the mixed doubles team. Along with our curling hero Sarah Walker." Chuck frowned as Bryce took a notebook out. "How do you like working with Sarah, Chuck? How are things coming along? I mean, tough break losing to Hu and Wang earlier. You played a good match."

"Bryce, what are you doing?" he asked, his frown deepening.

"My job, funny guy."

"Stop calling me funny guy," Chuck said, and Bryce backed up a step, holding a hand up in surrender.

"You got it. Chuck."

"I'm not talking to you about my team."

Bryce frowned a little then, and Chuck could see him drop the pretenses, the act falling away. He pushed a hand through his hair and nodded. "All right. Notebook away, then." He shoved his notebook back in the inner pocket of his thick coat. "I can't say I blame you. I did sort of put everybody in a tough spot, but it just didn't feel right, anymore."

Chuck wasn't about to offer him any sympathy. So he just continued to stare.

"It just got so stale. Every day just going to train, coming home, going back to training, coming home…always together, always the same thing. I couldn't do it anymore. So sue me. Sometimes hobbies get old. Curling just got…old for me."

"So you accepted a job giving commentary on curling matches for NBC? You'll be calling multiple matches a day."

"Hey, but I get money for this. I still had to freaking sit at an accounting desk during the day when I was on the curling team and, sorry for the French, but fuck that." He shrugged. Chuck didn't say anything again and Bryce huffed. "Why are you so sore? I hear Team U.S.A. drew up a deal for you to get paid with benefits. And you're at the Olympics. None of that would be possible for you if it weren't for me."

"Well, pardon me if I don't get on the ground and kiss your feet."

"I'm not askin' for that, I'm just…" He sighed. "Whatever, man. I'm just trying to live. Be happy. Like the rest of us. And I didn't mean anyone any harm with all this, contrary to what all of you might be saying."

Chuck shrugged. "Okay."

"That's it? Okay?"

He just shrugged again in response.

"Shit. Tough crowd. Well, hey, listen, I wish you the best of luck. Sarah's a good girl, really good curler, but…Well, she has a path, and I just didn't feel like I was part of it. We held each other back, both on the ice and off. I bet she would agree if you asked her."

He paused as Chuck clenched his jaw, looking off to the side.

"Mark my words, though, it's all curling all the time for her. If you hold her back, she'll cut you loose faster than you can blink."

Chuck gave him a dark brow. "We aren't together like that."

Bryce lifted his eyebrows. "I meant you two being mixed doubles partners, actually." Then he leaned in. "But tell me more."

"I'm not talking to you anymore. It's none of your business. She isn't your girlfriend or your partner. And we have a tournament to focus on."

"I know. I was there. I saw ya lose."

Chuck clenched his jaw again.

"Listen, funny guy. I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm gonna give it straight. I think you're a good dude. You've always been a good dude. Watch your step. Not-Not with me. With her," he said quickly as Chuck puffed out his chest a bit. "It's clear to me that the pattern is continuing. Sarah's a pattern type of girl. She likes things to have an order to them. This whole thing where she dates her partner," he put a hand on his own chest, "and when they break up and she gets a new partner, she dates that partner. Everything in her life always has this kind of…like I said, pattern."

Why hadn't Chuck hit him yet? Why wasn't he hitting him? Should he hit him? He really wanted to hit this guy.

"It's why she has stuck with this sport so long. It's got this pattern. Everything's the same, predictable."

"You really don't understand the sport of curling, do you?"

Bryce ignored him. "I'm looking out for you, Chuck. This cushy job you found yourself? Getting paid to play the sport you love? Having a beautiful, smart woman as your partner? Enjoy it while you can, funny guy, because the moment you two start dating, it's downhill from there. Especially if you do poorly at the Olympics? Pffft. And I know for sure that romance is gonna mean your team crashing and burning. It's how it goes with Sarah." He took another step back and held his hands up defensively. "Just giving you the truth because I know. I know how things go with her. So if you want to keep this job, if you want your paycheck and benefits safe to the point where you never have to fix another computer again, keep it in your pants, buddy boy. It's gonna be hard. Trust me, I know firsthand, Sarah Walker is an icy hot babe…" That was it, that was the last straw.

But as soon as he made a fist…

"Oh, here's Chuck! I found him, guys!"

Captain Awesome's arm was slung around his neck then and he jumped, turning to look at his brother-in-law, just barely able to wipe the anger from his face. "We were lookin' for ya, bro!"

"Oh. Yeah. The, uh…crowd out there kinda got to me." He turned back to Bryce and found he was gone, like some sort of asshole douche ghost or something.

"Really? You've never had trouble with crowds before. You _love_ Disneyland."

"Yeah, I dunno. It just hit me."

Ellie and Morgan were there then and Awesome let go of Chuck to grab Morgan, pull him into a headlock, and give him a noogie. Morgan whimpered and flapped his arms, looking disheveled and frustrated as Awesome let him stand again. "How the hell do you manage to noog me when I'm _wearing a hat_?!" he snapped.

"I dunno, I just do!" Awesome beamed and shrugged.

Ellie used the opportunity to lean in close to Chuck. "Was that Bryce I just saw over here?" she asked in a quiet tone. "Bryce Larkin? Like…the guy who…?"

"Yeah. But sh."

"Are you okay?"

"Mhm. He almost wasn't, though. Let's just go to the Olympic Stadium and start clumping together with the other Americans. At least there it's just a bunch of actual _athletes_."

"And some nice Koreans," Ellie said, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. He appreciated that she didn't push him to tell her about the conversation he'd just had, instead just letting the subject drop. She was good at picking up on his cues, always had been.

By the time they all got inside of the stadium, the American athletes were mingling, taking pictures, selfies, posting on social media. Chuck took a few with his family, posting it on his Twitter and Instagram, commenting on how well things were run so far, how welcoming the South Korean officials, volunteers, athletes, and citizens were already.

"So according to the Korean alphabet, we're in with the M's," one of the hockey women explained to Ellie. Apparently they were good friends considering the tight hugs they'd exchanged. If he'd known Ellie was friends with one of them…They were just such bad asses.

"What are they at now?"

"The, uhhh…L's," Awesome said, straining to try to hear for a second.

"We're almost theeeeeere!" Morgan shouted, pumping his arms over his head. Everyone around them cheered, hugged, thumped each other on the backs and shoulders. And then he felt a yank on the stupid fringe of one of his gloves.

But as he turned to see what had just happened, he thought at least the dumb gloves had some purpose, because there was Sarah Walker, beaming, her eyes shining bright under the Team U.S.A. beanie she wore, her fingers twisted in his glove fringe.

"Hi. Everyone else is mingling, so I thought we could, too."

She said mingling in a certain way and he hated that he couldn't react to it. She _had_ to know what she was doing, right? She knew. She was teasing him.

Chuck lifted his hand, her fingers still holding onto the fringe. "Holdin' onto my stupid glove, huh?"

"I like 'em."

"Yeah, me too. Totally." And then he snorted at himself and winced. "Actually, I'm not a fan. I feel like a Wild West Showman from the eighteen-hundreds."

She smirked and bounced her shoulders in amusement, finally letting go of the fringe. "Maybe I have a thing for Wild West Showmen from the eighteen-hundreds."

"Well, if that's the case then I'm gonna rock these to their fullest potential."

They exchanged a grin as the other curlers crowded up against Sarah's back.

Ellie finally noticed Sarah and immediately swept her up in a tight hug, clearing the way for Tyler to play-punch Chuck in his nuts. "Nope! Don't do that, though," Chuck drawled, pushing Tyler's hands away from his body.

Jane saved him by pushing in front of Tyler, sending him a quick look that stopped him cold in his tracks. Then she turned to Chuck and lifted a meaningful eyebrow. "Not all of us have figured out the importance of this moment, and how we're supposed to be representing our country by being appropriate." She sent that last part over her shoulder at Tyler and he shrugged and wandered off to mingle.

"You really look like the Ralph Lauren poster boy in this get-up."

"Thank you! W-Wait. That wasn't a compliment, was it?"

Jane just laughed, throwing her head back, patting his shoulder. "No. It was not."

He laughed with her and shook his head, turning to see that Ellie had introduced Sarah to pretty much the entire U.S. women's hockey team. She had now gotten pulled into a giant picture with them and Ellie, and before he could even think anything else, the team captain had grabbed him and pulled him right up against Sarah.

Chuck couldn't help it. With a hockey player's arms wrapped around his neck from behind and leaning down over him as he knelt for the picture, he had to blush. After watching their games through grainy YouTube live streams with Ellie, to have them standing right here with him, and the _team captain_ hugging him…

They finally were led out of the tunnel, then, and if Chuck thought walking into the arena earlier that day was loud…

It was intense. There had to be tens of thousands of people. He couldn't fathom. The cheers for Team U.S.A. were explosive. It was all so overwhelming, it nearly knocked him right on his ass. Awesome had to grab onto his bicep from behind to keep him standing.

Everyone was waving, taking pictures, recording…so he took his phone out and started doing the same. Morgan was weaving his way through the other Americans and was high fiving the South Koreans dancing along the path. Sarah cackled, unsuccessful at smothering it with her hands against her face. Those gloves were growing on him a bit, for some strange reason.

As "Gangnam Style" exploded through the arena, the curlers led their immediate section in a dance party, earning the cameras' attention. He didn't care that millions were watching or that he sucked at dancing, because Sarah was jumping up and down and recording them singing with her phone, threatening to put it on her Instagram with her however many thousands of followers.

He reveled in it. He took it in and just reveled. Because he knew after tonight, it would be back to business.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!

A loud banging woke her up, and in her half-awake state of mind, she thought maybe the banging was actually inside of her head. She realized quickly that this was impossible, so her first inclination was to blame Chuck.

"Stop doing that, Chuck," she grumbled, barely lifting her face from her pillow.

"Z'not me," he groaned back.

The banging happened again and she whined.

When she realized it wasn't Chuck and that there was someone at their apartment door, she pushed herself up from the bed and glared at her roommate. "I hate you," she mumbled.

"S'okay with me," he mumbled back, burying himself deeper in his bed.

Jerk.

She grabbed a sweatshirt and wrapped it around herself, grumpily moving into the other room. The banging was louder and she let out a frustrated whine, before snapping, "I'm coming!"

But when she opened the door, she was fully awake.

Diane Beckman and Langston Graham were standing there, looking stern, like they meant business.

"Oh God, no," Sarah breathed. "Not this early."

"It's eight o'clock. What do you think this is, summer break?" Beckman snapped, pushing past her. "Where's Chuck?"

Graham didn't look liable to be on her side any more than Beckman was, so she sighed and gestured to the bedroom, shutting the door behind the coaches.

Beckman didn't even pause. She stormed into the bedroom, and there was a swish sound and a high-pitched yelp that had to have come from Chuck Bartowski. She almost laughed, but she wanted to be asleep instead, so it only came out a soft snort.

The coach and the curler came out of the room together, Chuck tugging a Team U.S.A. sweatshirt on over his head and pulling it down to cover the shirt he'd slept in.

Beckman slammed a handheld whiteboard onto the desk then and got right down to business.

They strategized for well over half an hour, and then were ordered down to the gym where they did another half hour of strength training followed by twenty minutes of treadmill. When they were both washed up and decked out in a new uniform, this time a red shirt and black pants, they met Beckman in the lobby and the three of them traveled to the Gangneung Curling Centre together.

With a few last words of encouragement, Beckman peeled off to go out to the arena and wait for them at the coach's table in the stands beside where they'd be competing against the Olympic Athletes from Russia.

Chuck and Sarah ended up sitting on benches in the preparation room, side by side, silent, contemplating.

She saw Chuck check his watch in her peripheral. "Still got twenty minutes." He let out a long breath and hung his head for a few moments, before sitting up again. "Sarah, we haven't talked about the loss last night."

Looking at his profile, she could see he really didn't want to talk about it. She didn't, either.

"I-I mean, what we might've done wrong. What we could do differently to fix it and do better this time around. I mean, we talked with Becks and Graham but I mean…us talking about it. Without them."

She nodded. "Well, for one, I was lodged way too far up in my head. I could do with that _not_ happening today. Or tonight when we have our match against the Finns."

"Easier said than done."

"Exactly." She raised her eyebrows and huffed, but then when she looked at him again, she saw something was bothering him. "Hey." She nudged his shin with the toe of her gripper shoe. "What's going on?"

He looked up at her, eyes wide. And then he made a dismissive hand gesture and shrugged. "Nah. Nothin'. I'm good."

"Chuck. We're about to play our second Olympic match. We probably lost the first one because I wasn't focused on the right thing—my delivery was shit. Whatever it is, get it out now so we can go out on that ice and win this."

Her partner let out a long sigh and nodded. "No, you're right. You're right." Rubbing the back of his neck, he continued. "I've been thinking a lot about things. And I know what they're all saying out there on Twitter, in the media…about me." She gave him a look and opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off, apparently knowing exactly what she was going to say. "I haven't been on Twitter. Not since the day we got here. I promise." She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. "I know that's just gonna end up being trouble if I go on there. Especially after we lost yesterday afternoon. I just…know. I know what's there. I'm so new to this sport, and everyone here is like—like you, or Becks. Everyone started curling forever ago, they've been doing it for years and years." He turned to look up at her, his brow furrowed. "I wouldn't even be sitting here if it weren't for Bryce being an ass and ditching the team."

Sarah ducked her head, then leaned in so he was forced to meet her gaze. "It doesn't matter how you got here, Chuck. You're _here_." 

"Yeah, but…I wasn't supposed to be. You were supposed to be here with someone else. And th-that's not even it, really. Because you're right. Bryce Larkin isn't on this team. I am. And I need to pick up the slack. I need to be present. Focused." He huffed and shook his head. "I just really, _really_ don't want to let you down, Sarah. You've been working towards this for years, and now that you're here, you're stuck with me, and I really don't want to be the one that ruins it for you."

"Is that what has you all tense and withdrawn? Because you don't want to let me down and ruin my Olympic dream?"

Chuck sighed roughly and nodded. "I wanna do well for you. None of this was fair to you and I want to make it all worth it."

Sarah Walker couldn't stop the smile on her face, and she felt herself blushing. It was just that she was filled with warmth. His kindness really was just…unending. It was extraordinary how this man fretted so hard over other people's well-being to the point where he seemed to almost ignore his own.

She was moved by his admission.

"Chuck…" Sarah reached down and picked up his hand, squeezing it tightly, but then letting go because she felt more than just a warmth inside of her from how sincerely he squeezed her hand back. It was more like heat…and she had to be careful with heat where this man was concerned. "You're so sweet," she breathed.

He seemed surprised, lifting his wide-eyed gaze to look into hers.

"It warms the cockles of my heart that you're this thoughtful about my needs and well-being, how much you're thinking about the work I've put into getting this far, that you don't want to mess it up…all of this for me. I know, that sounds cheesy, but seriously, there's no other way to say it than that." She smiled and shook her head.

But then the smile faded a bit, and she met his gaze seriously. "But please stop."

He looked confused, hesitant.

"Or, at least, please don't let that be the only reason you're doing this." He was still confused so she scooteda bit closer and lightly put a hand on Chuck's arm. "You say you don't want to let me down, don't want to ruin this for me. Chuck, you're in the Olympics. This is yours as much as it is mine."

"Sarah, a year ago, I was curling on a hockey rink in Burbank, California. We were a ragtag group of post-grads and tech heads drinking and pretending our brooms were swords." She snorted a bit at that. "Olympics weren't even on my radar. You, on the other hand, you've been working towards this for years."

She just looked at him for a long time. "Maybe that's true. But no one on this whole team has worked as hard as you have in the last few months since you were suddenly pushed into this situation. Not Casey or Jane, not Anna, Mark, Tyler, not any of the other members of U.S. curling, not Beckman or Graham…not even me," she added. "You have worked your ass off. You've studied, you've practiced, you've gone out of your way to earn your spot here, Chuck. And you're saying that was all for me?" she asked, giving him a dubious look.

He winced a little. "Yeah. Mostly. To be perfectly honest with you."

And when he looked into her eyes, she almost felt lightheaded.

"Chuck, that—" She swallowed and took a breath. That was a lot for her to consider. And she would consider it. Later. But right now, she needed to get his head in the game. "That's very sweet." He made a face. "What? It is. But you need to want to win for yourself. Not just for me. You put so much work into this, don't you want to win? Take me out of the equation for a second. Don't you want to do well in this?"

"Of course I do."

"Then hang onto that. Because there are a lot of trolls out there who want me to do even worse with you as my partner than I did with Bryce." She could see the way he clenched his jaw at her mentioning Bryce. She distantly wondered if it was something more than just the fact that he'd abandoned their team. "They want to be able to say 'I told you so', they want to be proven right by our failure. By _your_ failure."

Chuck let a long breath out through pursed lips and nodded. But he didn't say anything, so she continued.

"Forget doing this for me, I've got me covered. Do it for you, Chuck. Prove them wrong about you. _I_ know you're a better curler than Bryce, and a _way_ better teammate. You actually trust me and listen to me out there. Makes me trust you more than I ever trusted Bryce." And she was a little startled to find that she sincerely meant that in more areas than just on the ice when they were curling. "We kick ass in at least some of our matches in these Olympics, you'll prove you deserve to be here. You'll prove it to yourself."

A smile grew on his face as he stared at the floor in front of him, and eventually he tilted his head to direct that smile at her. "First order of business in Project Chuck Proving Himself to…er, Himself," he made a face and she giggled, "Beat the shit outta some Russians."

"Chuck, sh!"

He covered his mouth and widened his eyes. "Sorry. Olympic Athletes From Russia," he whispered.

She pursed her lips and shook her head at him, getting up and grabbing her broom. "I swear to God, Chuck Bartowski."

They went out into the arena and followed the guide over to their sheet. Sarah glanced up to meet Beckman's gaze, hoping to wordlessly reassure their coach. Though Sarah herself wasn't entirely reassured. She still had to think about Chuck's admission, that he'd worked his ass off for all these months because he didn't want to let her down, that most of what he'd done to get here, the late nights of going over strategy at the kitchen table, sometimes alone, watching curling on their TV, extra hours during the week spent at the gym…It was for her. He didn't want to be what dragged her down.

She felt something stirring in her blood.

Nobody had ever cared to support her like this—not even her coaches or the federation, as much as they'd supported her. Chuck Bartowski was on another level entirely. She wasn't a fool, and there was no use in denying it. This was more than friendship. She felt it, and she knew he did, too.

There was an intense magnetism between them.

And she was a little nervous it might prove to be a distraction.

But she trusted him, and he trusted her and they had to win this one.

One yellow rock and one red would be placed to start the End. It was Team U.S.A.'s decision where to position each rock. They had their mic's attached to their shirts by the officials and stood off to the side to deliberate on where to position their red rock versus the Russians' yellow rock.

"You're lead shooter, Chuck. Where do you want it?"

He raised an eyebrow. She thought for a moment that he'd tell her to make the decision. But then he itched behind his ear and nodded once, emphatic. "I want to start in the four foot."

She bit her cheek to keep from smiling. "Perfect." She nodded for the rocks to be placed and they slid back down to stand behind the hack where Vera Sokolov prepared to deliver Russia's first rock. She expertly slid the yellow rock all the way through the house so that it stopped just barely biting into the twelve foot ring, close to the T-line. It was clever, cunning. Sarah smirked a bit, because she knew this would be a challenge. She liked a good challenge.

Sarah knelt down and put a hand on one of her five red rocks, shutting her eyes. It was superstition. She was bonding with her rocks. Silly, she knew, but it made her feel better.

"Hey…" She turned to face Chuck as he used his broom to slide a rock in front of the hack. "What are you doing?"

"Uh…curling."

She narrowed her eyes at him and just barely kept from smiling by bitting her cheek. She scooted all the way down to the house and eyed the rocks. "Here?" she asked him, raising her voice so he could hear. She gestured a few feet to the right of the T-line, a bit to the side and behind Russia's rock they'd just thrown.

"Uhhhh…yeah! Can you get it there?"

"Can _you_ get it there?"

He smiled a little and got into position. She lined up her broom for his sight line and he moved to deliver the stone. When he let it go, he leapt up to his feet and followed it.

"Line…Line…Weight only…Hard!" she barked, watching it curl. "Whoa! Stop!"

It might have too little weight, she thought then, and she rushed around to the other side of the house as the rock started slowing. Shit! Chuck had backed off so it was up to her now. She furiously swept as the rock closed in on the yellow…closer, closer…

Sarah stood up straight and watched as Chuck's delivery pushed their rock up just barely against the yellow stone, but closer to the button, just an outer edge sticking out of the house.

"That was money," she said, meeting Chuck's gaze as he came to look at his handy work.

"Tight."

She snorted and stepped back with Chuck to watch as the Russian team conferred, discussing what their next shot would be.

And then Alexei Volkoff of Team OAR went to the hack alone, preparing his shot.

They battled back and forth through what felt like a long End, and Volkoff and Sokolov forced Chuck and Sarah into taking one point.

OAR took two in the next End, leaving the score at Team U.S.A. with one, OAR with two.

By the time they'd gotten to the last rock of the third End, Chuck and Sarah had frozen two of their red stones together just outside of the button and had one further back, just inside of the twelve foot ring. The fourth was a guard Sarah set up perfectly to protect the rock in the twelve foot.

Sokolov had delivered one Russian stone to the outside of the eight foot, and one was perfectly on the button, with those first two red stones frozen just a few inches behind it.

Sarah followed Chuck to the hack and switched her broom to her other hand so that she could set her fingers on Chuck's wrist. "You thinkin' right down the middle?"

"Yup. But we'd have to clear that guard."

"No, you'd have to go through the port," she said confidently. OAR had placed their guard in their last throw into a spot that made any delivery into the house, especially towards the button, an incredibly difficult shot.

"Split the guards through the port?" He looked down at her with eyes wide.

"Mhm." Sarah smirked and walked backwards, away from him and towards her spot in the house. "Better deliver."

"So no DiGiorno…is what you're saying."

She laughed and shook her head, shuffling her way back down to the house, fighting back the grin as she turned and lined up her broom for him. He only had about a foot and a half of space to get it through, but if he did it, she could sweep to guide it into the corner of the OAR rock on the button. Hopefully they'd get at least two points out of it and retake the lead.

"Okay?" she called out.

"Oh, you know it," was the response, and she hoped she was the only one who heard the flirtation in his tone. She really hoped. But if he was flirting, that maybe meant he was feeling cocky…and if Chuck Bartowski was feeling cocky, did that mean her Do it for yourself pep talk had worked?

Then he let go of the rock and followed it.

"Yes….yes…" she called.

"Line good?"

"Beautiful."

"Hard!" she said suddenly.

He swept hard for a second or two and laid off so that she could take over. It slipped right through that foot and a half port space. She could almost hear the crowd hold their breath as it sliced through.

And then she cleared some of the ice to the right so that it curled to tap OAR's rock. That rock's roll brought it a few feet from the button and put their two red rocks into contention as counters, but miraculously, the rock Chuck just delivered didn't have much roll off of its bounce and it stopped in counting position as well. They had three counters. _Holy shit!_

Sarah threw her arms up in celebration and spun to face Chuck as he knelt down in a fist pump. They skidded towards each other on the ice, and before she could hug him for his ridiculously delicious shot, she stopped herself and instead just looked up at him. All she had to do for their chests to touch was take a deep breath, they were so close.

"Nice delivery," she said quietly.

"Nice skipping, skipper."

Sarah bit her lip and stepped around him. There was pure heat between them, and she subtly squirmed a bit, pulling at the collar of her shirt to let cool air slip inside. She was sure no one else was aware of it. Right?

Either way, they'd somehow managed three counters in the End, leaving the score at four to two with them winning to start the fourth End.

**-oooo-**

By the time they headed back to the prep room for halftime, they'd had to force a point to OAR, leaving the score at four to three in their favor still. Volkoff and Sokolov were in the other corner of the room with their coach and a whiteboard, discussing strategy furiously, so Chuck kept at least two feet between himself and Sarah. He sat in one of the plastic chairs and she stood leaning back against the wall, her arms crossed.

God, he could still feel it, though. Like their was a current between them. He had to dial it back. They still had the rest of this game and the games after. If they were lucky enough to get out of the round-robin, which would be a long shot considering how damn good he'd found these other teams to be when he'd done research on them, they'd have more games after that. And he still had that pain in the ass voice of Bryce Larkin's reminding him that distractions might mean the failure of their team at this tournament.

Granted, Sarah Walker was a walking, talking distraction, as stunning and intelligent as she was, and yet, he was still managing to deliver some good freaking rocks.

"Man, I can't get over it," he said so only she could hear. "That circus shot was unlike anything I've done ever. I-I mean, there was one delivery I did when I was drunk a year ago. But that was one of those 'couldn't do that again if I tried' situations. Just…the fact that it stayed put after that bounce…"

"It was the best delivery I've seen in a long time, Chuck."

"Right?" He sat against the back of the chair and just beamed up at her. "Let's do more of that."

"I'm not gonna say no," she giggled.

Suddenly, though, he felt her fingers brush against his collarbone, up to the neck of his shirt, and she smoothed her hand over the collar. Her touch was slow, and he wondered if she'd lingered there on purpose before pulling her hand away.

The curlers from Russia were busy, backs to them, he noticed, so he stood up from his chair and stepped in close to her. She inched back a bit, a warning look on her face, and he wrinkled his nose, biting his lip, letting her see in his eyes how much he wanted to…

What?

He didn't know.

Touch her? Kiss her?

He balled his fist at his side and squeezed. And before he could say anything, Beckman strolled into the room. "One thing," she said, getting right to business, as always.

Chuck subtly stepped away from Sarah as Beckman came towards them with a whiteboard. He let out a long breath, listening, nodding along. And then the attendant came in to let them know it was time to start the second half.

Beckman turned and pointed at Chuck. "You keep delivering like you did that hammer in the third End and you'll be canonized, kid." She reached up to ruffle his curls and grinned a purely Becks type of grin before ducking out.

The fifth End resulted in Volkoff and Sokolov pulling ahead with five points, and the sixth and seventh ended with the score tied at seven points all.

It was down to the last End now.

Sarah threw her last rock and managed to bury it in a perfect position as a counter. But she and Chuck had placed their rocks so that they were lying two, and Sokolov would have to pick one of them to take out. Chuck couldn't imagine OAR managing to take both U.S. counters out and that meant they'd have to force one point to Team U.S.A.

All that remained was for Sokolov to deliver the last hammer of the game.

And when she did, she took out the American rock in the four foot, but forced that point like Chuck thought she would.

Alexei Volkoff and Vera Sokolov conceded, coming over to shake hands. As soon as they moved out of the sheet, Chuck turned to give Sarah the biggest high-five ever, and instead, she smacked both hands on his chest, which kind of hurt what with the Team U.S.A. broom she still held.

"We won," she breathed. "Good teamwork, partner."

He chuckled and then winked. And the look he got in return told him the next few hours between this game and the next would be…a struggle. And the way she'd so expertly hidden it so that he was the only one who got the true message.

Strike that, he thought to himself as he checked his phone and found a text from his sister that had screenshots of tweets from people on Twitter talking about how they "stan" Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker over their "beautiful banter". _I've gotta last the next two weeks._

If people were already hyped on the banter, he couldn't imagine what would happen if they knew about that conversation they'd had on the flight to PyeongChang. Or that delicious burning sensation he got in his lower belly at the look she gave him after he made that circus shot in the third End. Nobody could know about that. Not even Sarah.

Beckman was absolutely beside herself she was so proud of them, passing along Graham's congratulations, as well as the rest of the team's. But with another game coming up in seven hours' time, they were ordered back to their apartment to get some rest.

"Don't do anything too tiring," she said as a parting shot, leaving them to go join Graham and the others for training.

And he really and truly hated himself for swinging his gaze over to meet Sarah's. _Don't do anything too tiring._ God, the look on her face. She smiled a little then and tilted her head. "Back to the apartment?"

He told his feet to follow her and they did, but he had to shove his hands deep into the pockets of his coat for the rest of their time waiting for the bus.

The worst part was climbing onto that packed bus and having to stand closer than was probably safe for his sanity, their bodies swaying together as the bus started and stopped.

Everybody seemed to be in their own world, and so, too, were Chuck and Sarah.

He just let himself stare back at her as they waited the ten minutes for the bus to worm its way back up to the Olympic Athletes Village. Her hand eventually made its way onto his arm. At any other time, and perhaps with any other woman, he might think she held onto him for balance. But this was now, and with Sarah Walker, the woman with whom he'd just shared his first Olympic curling win. The air was smoldering between them.

Chuck didn't know what to do about it. What did she want him to do about it? Did she want him to do anything? Her blue eyes were so focused on him. And there was this particular twinkle to them. A particular tilt to the corner of her mouth.

He wanted to wrap his free arm around her, pull her into his chest, and kiss the hell out of her. But there were at least ten other people on this bus, most of them athletes waiting for the bus to pull to a stop in front of their apartment buildings.

So he withheld the urge, as difficult as it was.

Thankfully, it wasn't much longer before they were able to get off of the bus and head through the village towards their building. He walked with his arms wrapped around his torso, as if to ward off the cold, shivering… But he was actually giving his arms something to do, and the shivering wasn't exactly from the _cold_.

It wasn't until they got into the elevator, the door sliding shut, that Chuck dropped his arms to his sides.

He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, and then the words just burst out of him. "Okay, this is intense. Is this as intense for you as it is for me? Or am I just going crazy?" He spun to face her. "We won a curling match at the Olympics. And I'm super excited about that, but more than anything, I'm, like, _stupidly_ turned on. Please tell me if I'm alone in this and I will promptly jump into the cold shower and leave you the hell alo—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

He couldn't.

And he really hadn't even seen anything but a slight trigger go off in her eyes before she closed the distance in two long strides, took his face between her hands, and kissed him. He distantly hoped there was no camera in the elevator or something like that, but then he found he really didn't care because one of her hands left his face and instead found the zipper of his jacket. In one, graceful move, she tugged the zipper down and had her hand twisted in the sweatshirt he'd tugged on over his curling uniform. She used her grip to pull him in tighter to her body, even going so far as to step backwards until he was forced to pin her to the wall of the elevator.

And then she used her other hand to pull his beanie off, shoving it into Chuck's hand that was still just…hovering in the air, unsure really of what to do. Her fingers were in his curls then, pulling him in for an even deeper kiss.

His hands finally caught up to speed and he wrapped his arms around her the way he'd wanted to in the bus, yanking her into him tightly and causing her to yelp against his lips.

And it was just as she opened her mouth in invitation that the loud DING reverberated through his entire existence it felt like. He stepped back as though she was made of fire, pushing her hand away from his sweatshirt and slamming his beanie back onto his head haphazardly.

Thankfully his reflexes were working, too, because when the doors opened, a few of the Dutch speed skaters were there, waiting to step into the elevator.

"Hi. Hi," he murmured at them as he ambled past. They nodded in greeting. "Good luck. Have a good race. Yeah…Okay…" He waved as Sarah gently took the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him around the corner. "Bye!"

Sarah giggled as they hurriedly walked the rest of the way to their apartment. "Nice save."

"I didn't want them to think we were…"

She slipped her key into the lock and swept the door open, spinning to face him again with a mischievous look in her eye. "…What?" she asked with a flirtatious raise of her eyebrow.

She tugged him into the apartment and the door slammed shut behind them. "I…don't really know how to answer thaaaaaaa— _woomph!_ "

His back was against the door and she was kissing him again. This time, he knew exactly how to react. And he dove in with every single part of himself. He unzipped her coat, pushed it off of her shoulders, let her get rid of his outer layers until he was all the way down to his curling uniform.

Feeling a spike of confidence and mischief himself, he turned them around and pinned her to the wall beside the door, causing her to make a cute little surprised squeak. She giggled through her nose and beamed at him sighing happily as he kissed her jaw and down to her neck, tucking one hand up underneath her zip-up sweatshirt and the two shirts she had on underneath. She gasped as his cool fingers touched the warm skin of her lower abdomen. He felt her muscles twitch under his fingers, and he grabbed her, angling his hips into hers as he teasingly nipped at the crook of her neck, his tongue sneaking out to lave the bite.

"Did you just bite me?" she breathed.

"A little. Okay?"

"Do it again," she laughed, and he did, making her laugh harder.

He tried to tug at all three of the layers covering her upper body then and she gave off another breathless laugh. "Try one at a time, funny guy…"

It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him.

And then…not, at the same time. Because his lower half was still aching for her…all of him was aching for her.

But she called him 'funny guy' and it reminded him of the one thing Bryce said that had felt like it might be…a good point.

Not the bullshit about Sarah living her life in a "pattern" or whatever he'd said. That was utter nonsense and it was flat-out cruel and untrue. Chuck could feel this wasn't just Sarah jumping from partner to partner.

But the bit about holding her back… If they went through with this and it became a distraction on the ice, if going through with this right now meant they'd struggle with their curling game, he wanted to wait.

As much as he'd love to strip down and let her have her way with him, to be blunt, he wanted to kick this tournament's ass. This was the Olympics. It was televised. Millions were watching.

He wanted to prove he could do this. And he wanted Sarah's naysayers to shut the hell up, frankly.

Sarah must have recognized his lips stopping against her skin, his hands going still…

Because she sighed heavily.

"I know," she muttered glumly.

He pulled back and looked into her face. "What we said…on the plane…"

"I know. I know. I was the one who said it." She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and huffed as he stepped back, away from her, and straightened his clothes a bit.

"We just…I mean, you were right."

"I know I was."

"But for the record… _wow_."

Her blue eyes slowly lowered to meet his and that white heat of desire hit him with an unrivaled force again. "Agreed," she enunciated slowly, emphasizing the 'd' at the end of the word.

He had to take another deep breath. And then there was a loud knock on the door.

"Chuck, you there?"

"Ellie!" he hissed.

Sarah seemed confused until she followed his gaze down to his crotch. "Oh!" she whispered back, and he thought maybe she was blushing a bit. He didn't have the time to be gratified by that. Or to blush back. "Uh…the shower! Get in the shower."

Perfect.

For so many reasons, that was a _perfect_ idea. He needed a shower. A cold one.

And he dashed out of the room and into their shared bathroom just as he heard Ellie knock again.

Suffice to say, in spite of the twenty degree temperature outside, Chuck turned the temperature to hypothermia levels of cold. It was…necessary.

**-oooo-**

They sat on the chairs in the apartment's living room, nothing but the soft sound of the shower in the other room, and some athletes being rowdy in the hallway. Sarah glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the shouting and made a face when she turned back to Ellie and Devon. "Wonder if they already have a medal, huh?"

"Probably just qualified," Ellie said, smiling.

"Oh. Yeah. Probably too early for that." She tucked some hair that escaped her braid behind her ear and remembered acutely the way Chuck's fingertips had oh so gently brushed back that same bit of hair minutes earlier, when he had her pinned against the wall and he was kissing her…

Fighting back a blush, she blurted, "You guys want some snacks? I found a Korean version of Chex-Mix. They're good."

"No, that's okay," Ellie said. "I think we're going to get lunch soon with a few other skiers."

"Uh…" Devon cleared his throat. "I'd like some Korean Chex-Mix."

Feeling sort of relieved she had something to do besides just sitting awkwardly and staring at Chuck's sister and brother-in-law while they sat awkwardly across from her and waited for Chuck to get out of the shower, Sarah hurried out of her chair and went over to the small cupboard area in the corner of the room. There was also a fridge and a microwave, which was handy.

She grabbed the bag and came back to toss it onto Devon's lap. He caught it mid-air with a giant grin. "Hey, thanks. I've got the munchies."

She giggled. "You're welcome. Munch away."

As she sat down again, Ellie clapped her hands together and bounced a little in excitement. "Oh, by the way, I didn't get to see the whole game because I had to get to the gym for a workout session with some teammates but I saw a bit of you guys destroying Russia."

"Whooped 'em," Devon said around a mouthful of corn snacks.

Sarah smiled. "It wasn't really a whooping but when you win, it's a win. I'll take it."

"Congratulations, Sarah. First win! Of many more to come, I'm sure," Ellie said warmly.

"Couldn't do it without my partner!" she chirped, gesturing towards the bathroom where Chuck was most likely taking a shower on the cooler side. She wished she could be so lucky right now.

"Speaking of partners," Devon said, chewing and swallowing. He grabbed another handful and paused with his hand near his mouth. "Didn't Bryce Larkin quit curling altogether? I thought that was a thing. But then I saw him here in PyeongChang and I was like 'Dude, what is that guy doin' here?' Ya know?"

"W-What?"

It was hard to miss the way Ellie quickly stomped on her husband's boot with her own, especially when he jerked a bit and winced, sending her a grumpy, confused look as he crunched away on his snack. Ellie gave him a look back that very clearly meant _Shut up_.

"Bryce was hired to commentate the curling event, unfortunately. So that's something else we all have to deal with. But wait. Hold on. Why'd you kick him?" Sarah asked then, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two.

Ellie winced and sent Devon a _Look what you did_ glare.

He shrugged, throwing more of the snacks into his mouth and munching on them. "I just saw him the other night is all. I mean, we were gonna meet Chuck in the lobby of the U.S.A. house and I found him off in this tucked away space in the back and Bryce was there." Devon widened his eyes and picked food out of his teeth with his tongue, then said, "They were really—"

"Having a chat," Ellie said.

"Nah, babe. It was an argument."

Sarah was cold all of a sudden. "What were they arguing about?"

Bless Ellie for trying to downplay things, trying to be a good sister, because apparently this discussion wasn't something Chuck had wanted to tell Sarah about. And Ellie recognized that. Devon apparently didn't really have her tact. But at the moment Sarah was glad he didn't.

"I didn't hear a lot but I thought our dude was gonna haul off and bop 'im one, Bryce I mean. He said stuff about what it's like to be your partner—Bryce I mean, not Chuck—and—"

"Devon. Honey. How much of this conversation did you hear?"

Devon grinned a bit haltingly this time and shrugged. "I guess I really just wanted to hear the discussion. I was curious, so sue me. I stopped it before anybody lost any teeth." He shrugged again at the flat look Ellie sent him.

"What'd Bryce say about being my partner?"

"Sarah, you don't need to hear it," Ellie said. "Really. It's just going to throw you off your game, which…it seems like that was Bryce's goal, ya know?" Then she winced and Sarah realized she must have given Chuck's sister a bit of a snappish look. "Though I get why you'd wanna know."

She felt bad but she turned back to Devon and he rolled the top of the bag down to close it, carefully reaching over to set it on the small coffee table between them.

"Um. Well." He sighed. "It was stuff about how if Chuck wanted to keep this paid job—you know, with the federation paying him to be on your mixed doubles team—he'd better keep it in his pants." He squirmed uncomfortably at the wide-eyed looks both women gave him. "Those were his words, not mine!" he defended himself, holding his hands up. "That was when I jumped in and pretended like I didn't even see Bryce, made sure to grab Chuck in a way that would keep him from swinging the fist I saw him make." Then he pointed, as though he remembered something. "I remember what really set Chuck off. Bryce said you're an icy hot babe and hard to resist. Real douchey thing to say. Especially after he said that crap about how your team will quote, crash and burn, unquote, if you guys get romantically involved, because that's just how things go with you. Somethin' like that."

The rage Sarah felt coursing through her…It was indescribable.

Both Ellie and Devon must have seen it because the former elbowed the latter before getting up and coming over to sit on the coffee table in front of Sarah and putting a reassuring hand on her knee. It helped calm her a little, at least. "Sarah, I'm sorry. He's a douchebag, obviously. And Chuck isn't—I mean, he wouldn't—"

"No, it's okay. I just wonder why he didn't say anything. Chuck, I mean."

Ellie shrugged. "To protect you. Chuck's sometimes overly thoughtful, but I think he was right, here." She winced. "Sorry, just the truth. I mean, what good has it really done for you to hear this stuff your ex said to try to throw your partner off his game?"

Sarah wondered if it worked and that was why Chuck had stopped things earlier. "I wish you would've let him hit that bastard," she teased, swinging her blue eyes over to Devon's.

The friendly guy quietly reached over to pick up the bag again, unrolling it and digging into it once more. "I just didn't want him kicked out of the Olympics or somethin'. Who knows what kind of bad trouble that'd get Chuck into?"

She nodded. "You're right. I need Chuck to not get busted for punching my ex in the face. Good work, Captain Awesome."

"Oh no, not you, too," Ellie groaned.

But it seemed to please her husband greatly. He pointed at her and beamed. "Hey. Just doin' my duty, li'l lady."

She giggled at that and nodded. "Well, hopefully—" She paused, wondering if she should say it. Then again, these two people probably knew Chuck better than anyone, didn't they? "I mean, you don't think Chuck listened to Bryce, do you? You don't think he got to him?" Ellie got a certain look on her face, like she might burst but was trying to keep it inside… _Oh, no_. "Not—Not the romance thing. We're not—I mean, Chuck and I aren't like that. I just mean, I don't want _anything_ my ex says to get under Chuck's skin or-or distract him from our goal here. We need to have a winning mentality. No distractions. You know?"

Ellie seemed to have successfully pushed down the beginnings of…excitement, maybe?…that Sarah had seen in her face. She shook her head vehemently, though.

"No. Trust me. Chuck knew exactly what Bryce was trying to do, cornering him like that. Only thing he was concerned about was protecting you, making sure you didn't have to know about it…I really don't think he would've hit Bryce even if Devon hadn't jumped in…belatedly," she threw over her shoulder in a flat voice.

He shrunk a little with a wince.

"Well, thanks…I mean, thank you for telling me. Even if it sucked to hear what my ex says about me behind my back, that he'd stoop this low to try to fracture the trust between me and Chuck, it's good to know I've got such a great teammate in your brother."

"Nah, my bro is the best," Devon chirped. "You're in safe hands. I mean, and vice versa. You're both in each other's hands. And also safe. Yeah."

"Is that really what you're going to say right now, Devon?" Ellie asked after giving him a long look.

He blinked and shrugged.

Sarah just laughed, fighting off another blush. It really was the worst possible way to word it, considering what she and Chuck had been doing right before these two had knocked on their door. They definitely were in one another's hands. And other things."Oh, wait! I almost forgot. I have some souvenirs I picked up from the curling center for you guys. Just a sec…" She climbed up to her feet and squeezed around Ellie's legs to hurry into the bedroom.

But right as she burst in, she realized the bathroom door was open, and Chuck was standing there at his bed, rifling through his suitcase… And he was in nothing but a towel tied securely—she hoped—around his waist. Low on his hips, actually. Very low.

How did she miss those shoulders? And when had that six-pack happened? Was that always under his nerdy T-shirts and button-ups and the uniform shirts? And she'd just never known it? Or did he get those from the extra work-outs he'd done to prepare for the Olympics?

He was staring back at her, though…she realized belatedly. And she inwardly winced, her gaze zooming back up to his face. It was really hard, though, because his arms were long and almost sinewy…Dear God…

And she chose that moment to remember that he'd almost punched Bryce for her, but had kept her from knowing her ex had said such rude things. And he'd done it to protect her. Devon probably hadn't even heard the half of it. Was she wrong for being turned on by the idea of this almost naked man in front of her punching her ex so hard, he was unconscious before he even hit the ground?

Probably.

But she was turned on anyway.

"My clothes," he breathed then. "I, uh, I jumped in the shower so fast that I forgot to get…something to change into. Clothes. So…here I am."

"Here you are. Your Ellie—I mean, your sister and brother-in-law are out there…waiting…"

"Oh. Thanks. I'll be…I'll be right out. Um…"

She wondered if he could tell she was having a hard time not checking him out. He was just so dewy and his hair extra curly…and again, the shoulders were just…

He backed to the bathroom door again, then turned to go inside, shutting it. But the pile of clothes he'd picked out of his suitcase was still there on the bed.

She heard a soft curse on the other side of the door and it opened. Chuck dashed out to grab the clothes. "I…heh…forgot these…so…'kay bye."

He was locked in the bathroom again, this time with his clothes, and Sarah needed a moment to collect herself before she grabbed the stuffed white tigers she'd bought at the curling center. They had little curling brooms in their hands and cute little shoes.

And she rushed out to give them to Chuck's family, hoping he finished with the shower soon so that she could get in. Her shower would also be a cold one. Very cold.

**-oooo-**

He couldn't believe this.

They were only in the seventh End and they'd scored ten points to the Finnish team's four. This was madness.

Chuck Bartowski sincerely didn't wish ill on the pair from Finland, and he didn't celebrate the fact that Sarah's phenomenal deliveries in the first two Ends had resulted in six points and promptly intimidated Kaarlo Tolonen into missing an easy double-hit. But that was what happened, and he and Sarah were sitting pretty in this game.

He eyeballed their current situation as Sarah shuffled over next to him. But her gripper must've caught on some loose ice because her foot slipped. As she pitched to the side, Chuck lunged to grab onto her arm, keeping her upright as her eyes widened, and she yelped.

The crowd let out a collective gasp and then there was a smattering of teasing applause as Chuck kept her from falling.

"You okay?" he asked, chuckling.

Kaarlo and Inka both laughed, coming up to check on her.

He could see Sarah was embarrassed so many people had seen her near catastrophe, but then she turned to the spectators closest to her and curtsied. They erupted in applause and laughter and she turned back to the game at hand.

"Can we all just curl now?" she said, and Inka snorted, putting a hand on Sarah's shoulder and sliding back down the sheet to the hack to deliver Team Finland's next rock.

As Sarah stepped up close to him, he felt her shoulder brush against his arm. "Thanks for keeping my skull safe," she muttered.

They were mic'd still so he bit back the replies that went through his head. Instead, he just breathed a quiet, "Oh, sure. What are partners for?"

Her shoulder pushed even more against him, and he felt like she did it on purpose.

The thing was, he'd seen the way she'd looked at him earlier, when he was only in a towel. She hadn't seemed to want to do much to hide that she was checking him out. And as gratifying as it was to have a woman as extraordinarily stunning as Sarah Walker look at him with that much…Well, to be frank, lust…It was seriously doing some crazy things to his insides. Like how he kept hearing the blood rushing through his ears. How every touch between them felt like a branding iron sizzling at his skin. And the looks she kept giving him.

Like now for instance.

Inka and Kaarlo managed to clear the rock Sarah'd delivered to the button out of the house. And now it was up to Chuck to bury a rock behind Sarah's other rock at the eight foot. That would be impossible for Kaarlo to get to. Even if the Finns somehow got one of their rocks into the button, they'd only get one point if Chuck could just execute this delivery the way he needed to.

"Seconds?" Sarah asked across the ice as he scooted over to the hack.

"Uh…I don't know. You tell me."

"From your hand to the house, I'd say nine maybe?"

Chuck couldn't help the slow smile on his face as he looked across the sheet towards her. They were probably one hundred feet away from one another and he could still see a mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes. "Eight and a half," he said. "But I'm gonna need some mean sweeping."

"You know that's exactly what you're gonna get," she said. God, please let him be the only one who'd heard the innuendo. He was standing on a sheet of ice and he still felt so warm.

He let out a slow breath and pulled their last rock of the End over, positioning himself and casting off. As he let go of the rock, he gave it a gentle turn and watched the curl for a moment before getting back to his feet and following.

Sarah met him halfway. They could only afford the smallest of glances before they both worked, Sarah on the right, Chuck on the left, sweeping…faster…faster…

"Keep going," came Sarah's tight voice. "Yes, yes…Hard!"

Chuck swept vigorously as Sarah stepped back.

"Yes!" she cried out.

He finally lifted the broom and watched as the rock curled into a perfectly buried spot, even freezing itself to their rock biting the eight foot ring.

"Nice shot." She was a little out of breath, a sheen of sweat on her neck as she slid over and put a hand on his torso. She squeezed his waist as she moved past him and he had to let out another slow breath.

The Finns tried but couldn't manage to get their rock to stay near the button, overshooting it by mere inches and keeping one of Chuck and Sarah's rocks in lying position. They scored one more point, making the score eleven to four as they headed into the eighth End.

This time, Chuck sidled up next to Sarah, watching as the Finns huddled close together to talk for a few moments, and he felt his partner's gaze on his profile. When he turned to look at her, he felt the air around them buzzing.

He told himself to focus on the task at hand, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking about that sound she'd made when he'd slipped his hand underneath her layers to feel her warm, smooth skin…

Day two and this was already close to unbearable.

How had this even happened?

And now they were in front of millions of people and he really needed to look away.

So he did, just in time to see Kaarlo coming over to concede the game. They shook hands and Chuck even brought the man in for a quick hug. He'd enjoyed this match with the Finns. They were nice, fun, easygoing. He shook hands with Inka as well, and then he went over to sign for the officials, handing them back their pen and clipboard and thanking them.

When he got back to Sarah's side, she beamed.

"I think we've earned a free McFlurry, frankly," he joked.

There was amusement in her face then and suddenly her arms were around him in a tight, but quick hug. As quick as it was, however, it wasn't fast enough that she didn't turn her face so that her lips brushed against his ear. "Just the one? We sharing?"

She pulled back and followed the Finish team to the tunnel.

Chuck had to pull himself together quickly, knowing plenty of people were still watching, but his knees were quivering. Thankfully he made it off the ice and into the prep room without collapsing.

And it wasn't until the Finns left and they were mostly alone in the room that she flung her arms around him again. She held onto him for much longer this time, and he hugged her back.

"Sarah…"

She squeezed him tighter. "Yeah, Chuck?" She was breathless. He could hear it in her voice. He wasn't alone in this. It wasn't just him. He squeezed her back.

"I think maybe that rule is kinda stupid." He felt her take a deep breath. She didn't ask 'what rule?' They both knew what rule. So he continued. "And if Ellie hadn't been there to interrupt it anyway, I'd say I made a mistake stopping things earlier."

"I'd say we both did."

The door opened behind them and Chuck let her go. Sarah took a slow step away from him as Beckman and Graham both walked in. And she didn't look away from his eyes for even a split second as their coaches came round to pat them on their backs, congratulating them.

Graham finally pulled Chuck into a hug and he was forced to look away from his partner, hugging the man back and laughing.

"Two wins! Two wins just today!" Graham exclaimed. He thumped Chuck on the back and stepped away. "Two wins out of three! Not bad, you two. Not bad."

"Thanks, coach," Sarah said, letting Becks pull her into a gruff side-hug.

"No meeting tonight. Just get some rest. Your game tomorrow is at noon so make sure to get to the gym sometime in the morning…get those limbs loose." Beckman then turned a warning glance on Chuck. "No McFlurries."

He was about to whine teasingly but then Sarah caught his eye with a look that was unmistakably heated. "Trust me, I'm not letting him anywhere near a McFlurry."

"Seems unfair," he practically squeaked out, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt and clearing his throat. There was a voice in his head screaming the exact opposite.

They all left together once Chuck and Sarah changed their shoes and bundled up. It was snowing as they got outside, and Chuck couldn't help but let it make his insides feel like sunshine and rainbows, as stupid as it sounded.

It didn't matter how often they'd gone up to Big Bear, Arrowhead, and on occasion all the way up to Mammoth when he was growing up, he still felt such a sense of wonder when he saw snow. Even now after a short career as an Olympic ski jumper. It was beautiful, as much as Ellie had texted him about hating the conditions on the downhill slope that first practice run she did.

Graham and Becks climbed onto the bus with them, too. Chuck felt like it was a good idea to make Sarah sit beside Graham while he sat next to Becks. He was fidgeting, squirming. So impatient. And as Beckman and Graham chattered away across the aisle for those ten minutes, Chuck found he didn't want to break his gaze away from Sarah's.

As tight as his pants were starting to feel.

Thankfully, he was wearing a long parka.

And as they pulled to a stop in front of their building, he was that much closer to…

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and wrinkled his nose as she sent him a slow smile, and they both got up to join their coaches in getting off of the bus.

Unfortunately, Chuck had to go through a round of congratulations from the U.S. athletes who were lounging around in the U.S.A. house as they walked to the elevators. It was incredibly kind. And he was a little starstruck by some of the big names who approached. The TV was turned to curling, however, and he figured they must have all been watching the win over Finland here.

It was gratifying.

But then they got into the elevator…

Beckman and Graham bid them goodnight as the elevator door slid open on their floor. They were almost out but then Beckman turned and slammed her hand on the frame to keep the door from shutting. Chuck nearly let out a whimper, and just barely held it back.

"Make sure you get plenty of sleep. No strategizing or studying 'til morning. No gym. No exercise."

"Got it. We got it," Chuck rushed out. "G'niiight."

Beckman smiled and stepped back, leaving with Graham.

The moment the doors slid shut again, Sarah let out a quick, "Yeah, fuck that."

And they slammed together for the second time that day, lips meeting, hands grappling at coats. Sarah won the race, however, and he whimpered when he felt her cool fingers against his bare hip, clutching him tighter and pulling him in against her.

That pesky ding sounded before they got too far and he groaned in annoyance, reluctantly letting her go and whipping around to face the door. He heard her breathless laughter behind him as the doors opened and they both rushed out in a flurry.

Thankfully no one was there waiting for the elevator, and the hallways were also empty, allowing for them to continue kissing as they made their way to their apartment.

"Mmm….m'wait," she murmured against his lips.

"No, please don't say we have to stop," he practically whimpered.

"I just have to get my key out, you horndog."

"You're the one who gave that McFlurry line, right out in the open, too…" he breathed against her neck as she grappled with her key to get the door open. He nibbled just under her ear as she giggled.

The door finally whooshed open and they half-fell inside. Chuck just barely had the mind to slam it shut behind them, pointedly reaching up to slide the extra lock in place as she giggled with her tongue between her teeth.

A trail of multiple layers of clothes wound through the room to the couch in front of the TV where they made a pit stop to round second base, and then the trail curled into the bedroom.

Snow fell hard outside of their apartment, wind howling, but Chuck was too lost to pay it any mind. They ended up buried in the covers of one of their beds—he didn't even notice which one—no layers between them, skin to skin, vying for control and rolling back and forth, laughing, sighing…and eventually moaning, whimpering.

For the first time in the months since Diane Beckman recruited him onto Team U.S.A. curling, Chuck chose to ignore his coach's instructions. He did not rest, not even for a moment. He gave Sarah everything he had. And he _did_ study—oh, did he study. Every last inch of her, and she him.

Everything else, even the fact that they still had two _Olympic_ matches to play that next day, faded from importance.

There was only this.


	7. Chapter 7

Sarah Walker grinned up at the ceiling, reveling in the feeling of the man half on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his arms wrapped around her, soft curls tickling her neck as he squeezed her tighter.

She snuggled closer and pressed her lips against his head, loving how his damp curls were still just as soft.

"That shower felt pretty amazing," she said, her voice crackly and satisfied.

"It was nice not to have to make the water so cold this time."

She laughed, her chest bouncing under his head. "And not having to come out here in a towel to get your clothes?"

Chuck lifted his head and shifted up her body so that he could look down into her face. "See, the way you avoid that mishap is to just skip the whole clothes thing altogether. Case in point." He gestured between them.

She laughed again, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, that's not something you can do for every occasion, funny guy." Sarah felt Chuck go stiff. It was just for a moment, so subtle she barely even caught it. But she did catch it. "Hey…what? What is it?"

"Hm? Oh. Nothin'." He slid his arms under her back and grinned down at her so that his nose got all cute and wrinkled, and then he rolled them both over so that he was on his back with her lying on his chest this time.

Sarah smiled at him, propping herself up and playing with his hair between her fingers. "You got really tense for a second. I felt it."

"It was a shiver."

"Uhhh…no."

"Yes."

"No." She lifted an eyebrow and moved her face down to gently kiss his jaw, dragging her lips down, nipping at his earlobe between her teeth, and lightly blowing into his ear. She felt him shiver. "That's a shiver, Bartowski. We've been in this bed, and then in that shower, for a few hours now and I know what it feels like when you shiver."

He groaned quietly, and she wasn't really sure if it was a turned on groan, or if it was a frustrated she'd read him so well groan.

"Tell me," she whispered, kissing his temple.

Chuck bit his lip and winced. "It's what you called me."

"What? Bartowski? Isn't that your name?" Then something occurred to her. "Wait, did I offend you when I called you a nerd in the shower? You kept throwing out this weird computer lingo when I was—"

"No, no. Not that. I fully embrace that I am a nerd. Also, please don't…erm…hold that against me. It-It's a weird sex habit I have. I can stop if you want me to."

"I don't want you to," she said, almost overwhelmed by how adorable he was.

"Oh. Okay. Then I…won't." He shook his head then and cleared his throat. "No, you called me…you called me funny guy."

She frowned a little, curious. "Funny guy bothers you?"

"It-It's not the name itself. It's more…who uses it."

"Oh." She tilted her head. "Oh," she repeated. "Who else has used that? It just kind of slipped out because you're a goof." She smiled at him and poked his chin, leaning in to kiss him in the same spot.

He let out a soft chuckle. "I know. And I'm not upset with you, it was just strange hearing it come from you after—" He huffed. "I wasn't gonna tell you this, but I don't want to keep stuff from you. I really just didn't feel like it was necessary to upset you with trivial shit."

"What are you talking about, Chuck?"

"Bryce."

She felt cold then and she squirmed a bit further into his body, glad that he wordlessly understood and pulled the covers up over her shoulders, wrapping his warm arms around her.

It wasn't a nice feeling, hearing her ex-boyfriend's name when she'd just connected in a massive and incredibly meaningful way with another man, a better man. And here she was lying in said other man's arms, having just had sex with him for a wickedly long period of time.

"Sorry. I know. He's the worst possible thing to bring up right now. After everything we just—You know, I mean, because we're…I don't know…what…we are…Can I just rewind? Start over?"

In spite of everything, she giggled and nodded, so insanely charmed by him.

"Thanks," he breathed. "He cornered me in the lobby the other night, before the opening ceremony. He thought it was his job to give me advice, or something. I dunno."

"Advice about what?"

"Being your mixed doubles partner. He basically told me not…not to do _this_. What we just did." He cleared his throat and pushed a hand through his hair, ruffling it and making it stick up even worse. "I obviously didn't listen to him."

"No. You did not." She smiled softly and couldn't help but stroke the backs of her fingers down his jaw. "Listen, Chuck, before you continue. Devon sort of slipped when you were in the shower—don't be mad at him, I forced him to talk," she rushed out when Chuck rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Did he tell you about Bryce? Damn it! What a sneaky bastard. I didn't even realize he'd seen Bryce standing there. I'm not trusting a single word that comes outta that stud's mouth from now on."

She could see he was teasing now and she chuckled softly. "I wormed it out of him with snacks. Ellie tried to protect your secret but the snacks were too powerful."

Chuck laughed. "Sounds about right, yeah." Then he swallowed thickly and sobered a bit. "Listen, if you don't mind, I don't wanna give you details about what he said. But he did that 'funny guy' thing he used to do when we would curl on the same team back in the beginning and I just kinda…I always hated it. I felt patronized." Sarah winced and bit her lip, but he rushed on. "It's okay, it's totally fine if you wanna commandeer the term and make me like it. That's fine with me. For the record. Like, for instance, I can give you pointers on when to use it to make me like it waaaaaay better…" He leaned up and pressed his lips to her ear, whispering some pretty naughty things and making her laugh.

Another hour passed, which included a second shower and a bed switch.

Sarah stared at the window, watching the white flurry of snow outside. She thought Chuck was asleep behind her, his arm slung over her, spooning her from behind. They'd wordlessly both decided clothes were a good idea this time, then climbed into the other bed. She felt a bit…shy about climbing in next to him. It was different this time. They weren't falling into bed to have sex. Instead, she'd shifted onto her side and scooted back against his chest, and he'd put his head on the same pillow hers was on. And it was so comfortable, but it had just felt…strange.

It hadn't taken long for her to really ease herself into his warmth and relax, letting him drape his zip-up sweatshirt he was wearing over her body and hug her close. It was a kindness, a sweetness, she'd never been treated to by anyone she'd ever been with.

And now he was sleeping, his face pressed up against the back of her head.

His hand suddenly shifted from where it had settled against her stomach and came to rest on her hip, his warm fingers dipping under the hem of the T-shirt she wore and stroking her soft skin. She shivered and turned her face into the pillow to hide the sudden smile.

So apparently he wasn't sleeping. And when she heard him murmur her name, it was further proof he was fully awake.

"Sarah?"

"Hm?"

"We went back on what we agreed to do—or I guess, not to do—when we were on the flight over here."

"We did."

He hummed quietly and nuzzled her neck. "I'm glad we did."

"Me, too."

"I just don't really understand what…" He let out a slow breath. "You were so certain that it was for the best that we hold off on our shared feelings—this magnetic, electrified pull between us, the thing that's been here since this partnership started. At least, I think it's been here. I've felt it from…" His voice faded off and she wanted to hear more. When did he feel it? When they first moved in together? Before that even? Had there been something for him even when she was dating Bryce, she wondered? She'd barely even talked much to him back then. He was kind of more in the background. She thought he was a nice guy, a hard worker by all accounts, and kind of cute. There couldn't have been something under that. But had he had a crush on her or something? The thought that this might be the case made her a little sad—missed opportunities and all that—but it also made her heart feel full somehow. That feeling when it's cold outside and you take that first drink of red wine—the warmth that floods your chest and stomach…

"From when?" she prompted, turning her head a bit. She still couldn't see his face.

There was a long pause. "It isn't important. What I'm trying to say—or _ask_ , really—is what it was that made you okay with us breaking our agreement. Because even just earlier today, we both stopped ourselves. Between then and after our second match, something changed. I guess I'm trying to figure out what."

She let his question settle in her brain for a few moments while he patiently waited, his fingers still playing a pattern on her hip. She unconsciously reached down and picked up his hand, pulling his arm to curl more around her torso and hugging it against her chest, their fingers still intertwined.

"Well," she started, licking her lips. "I guess, first of all, I couldn't help myself any longer." She paused. "Maybe I could've helped myself. I've got pretty strong willpower. I just…didn't want to." His lips brushed against her neck, right at her hairline, and she sighed, smiling a little again. "That's the first thing. I didn't want to stop myself anymore. I wanted to do this."

"That's a good enough reason for me, if I'm being perfectly honest with you."

Sarah giggled and hugged his arm tighter, scooting herself back even further against his body. He draped one leg over both of hers and she felt fully enveloped in his embrace. She wondered if this wasn't the safest she'd ever felt in her life. But that was…big. That was a big thought. So she pushed it away quickly.

"Good," she said quietly. "But it isn't the only reason. I mean, that's probably what made me act in the first place—falling into bed with you. But in those scant few moments in which I was capable of lucid thought tonight," she felt more than heard him chuckle, his chest bouncing against her back, and she smiled, "I was thinking about us out on the ice, during our games. We played two whole games today, Chuck, and we did it knowing full well what's between us. Or, at least, I think we each had an idea."

He nodded, his lips brushing against her neck again. His extra attentions while she reasoned with all of this weren't even distracting, she found. They did make her feel good, though. Very good.

"We were in this groove and it wasn't interrupted at all by what happened in the elevator and continued into this apartment. Even the towel situation…"

"There was a towel situation?" Chuck asked in a droll voice. "What towel situation?"

She snorted, feeling his mouth stretch into a smile as he nuzzled his face against her."You were kind of a doof—a very sweet doof, stupidly adorable and charming—but even that didn't feel awkward or…uncomfortable. Maybe I'm projecting and it felt that way for you."

"No, you were very clearly checking me out. And I had no idea what to do about that except maybe…hide again. But at the same time, I kinda wanted to stay standing there for a little while longer because it was pretty gratifying. It was a conflicting feeling, but I wouldn't say I was uncomfortable. In fact, I definitely wasn't. Uh, embarrassed? Maybe. A little. Stunned? Definitely. Confused? Yes. But not uncomfortable." He chuckled and she craned her neck to at least look in his direction a little, enough for him to see her wide smile, then she turned back and snuggled her face into the pillow again.

"We play really well together, Chuck. We played well before we talked about this two-way magnetism between us, and we've played well after. Only difference is that we hadn't acted on the feelings yet."

"We have now, though."

"Mmm, we were both pretty emphatic, too."

"It felt necessary."

"God, it so did." She finally shifted in his embrace, turning around to face him, their chests pressed together. He wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her in close, their foreheads touching, and she took the opportunity to rub his nose with her own. It made him grin and her chest ached in the best way.

"The thing is, I was afraid that if we didn't hold back, if we let this…sexual tension between us snap…" She felt stupid for blushing and she was glad there was only a bit of light coming in through the window, enough for them to see one another, but hopefully he couldn't see her blush. "…We'd fall into what happened in Mammoth that last day. When we nearly kissed and I practically ran away from you, we played terribly after that. We just weren't on the same page and it sucked. I thought there was a chance that might happen again if we were intimate."

"That makes sense," he murmured. "But what made you change your mind?"

"Like I said before, we've both acknowledged there's more than just a partnership here. During the flight, we both made it pretty clear. I wanted more, and I felt like you did, too. It was just that we made the agreement not to act on that during the Olympic games." He nodded. "But we _knew_ , Chuck, and we still played like…God, we've been on fire. Even in that first game, we played so well against the Chinese. I know we lost, but we still played _so well_. We were connecting, gelling. I mean, I felt like our delivering was fantastic, the communication perfect. I think—" She took in a slow breath and let it out just as slowly, charmed by how steady and patient he was, his tired eyes so warm and inviting, his arms and his body as a whole just so comfortable and secure. "I think acknowledging this between us has made us a better team. We're curling better than we ever have before. I—I personally feel like I've never been this confident or calm or steady out there on the ice."

Chuck nodded slowly. "I think you're right. I've never been that confident in myself—my own throws, my decision-making. But ever since I found out you might have feelings for me that extend past our partnership, our friendship even, I've had a lot more confidence." He cleared his throat. "I feel like that's probably the case when you discover the most stunning, outrageously beautiful woman in the entire universe—who is nice and super cool in equal measures—has romantic-ish feelings for you."

"Excuse me, I'm going to need you to take the _'ish'_ out of that sentence, thank you. I feel like the last few hours, I've done my part in proving I have fully romantic feelings for you, no 'ish' about it." She arched an eyebrow and pushed herself up to hover over him, propping her elbow on the pillow and resting her head on her palm.

"I stand corrected," he said, and then he furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. "More accurately, I _lie down_ corrected."

Sarah giggled and shook her head at him, rolling her eyes as well for good measure. "You're such a freakin' dork."

"Nerd."

"Both."

"I'll take it."

Giggling through her nose, she leaned down and kissed his cheek, letting him gather her up in his arms and pull her down to drape herself over his chest again, burying her face under his chin.

"I think what you're saying, Sarah, is that this thing between us is making us better curlers. It's pushing our game forward, guiding us on the ice."

"Yeah. I think it is."

"Is-Is that a new thing?"

She frowned a little in confusion, then pushed herself up to look down into his face. "A new thing?" Then it dawned on her as she watched him wince, like he wished he hadn't asked her that. He was tiptoeing around Bryce—more to the point, her relationship with Bryce. "Oh." He winced harder. "This isn't the same thing. I'm not—I'm not repeating what happened there with you."

"No, I know. I didn't mean to insinuate—I don't think you're—"

Sarah smiled and put a finger gently to his lips, efficiently getting him to stop talking.

"This isn't the same thing. Curling drove the relationship I had with Bryce. Curling, sponsorships, being in a rut. I mean, if you can imagine this, we held onto our sponsorships no matter what was happening with our curling, even though our relationship was practically a shell of what relationships are supposed to be. At least, what I _think_ they're supposed to be. It was so easy to just keep things going, stay with the status quo. Because it worked, even if I was unhappy. Obviously he was unhappy, too. But we got money and...whatever." Her voice faded.

Chuck just nodded, and she slowly lifted her finger from his lips. She was grateful that he allowed her to continue speaking, not filling the quiet space with empty assurances that he understood, even if he maybe didn't. He really was something else, this man.

"I would never have known you existed if curling hadn't brought us together. But this?" She gestured between them. "This feels like a lot more than curling."

"Well, you typically curl with your clothes on. And if I ever hear you make a sound like the ones I heard you make in the last few hours while we're in the middle of a match, I will proceed to faint. Immediately."

She laughed hard and reached up to ruffle his hair, making him squeak and halfheartedly try to fight her off. "You smart-ass."

"No, I-I know what you mean," he said with a chuckle, catching her wrist and bringing it in for a warm kiss right to her pulse point. It made her squirm a bit against him, it was such a sweet and intimate gesture. "And I agree. If we woke up tomorrow and curling was made illegal by some Illuminati-type world order and we could never curl again, I'd still want this so freakin' bad. I'd want _you_."

"Okay, you _are_ a nerd," she giggled. He shrugged as if to say _I told you so_. "But yes, that's what I mean, more or less. What happened tonight isn't about curling."

"No. It definitely isn't."

"It's different."

"It is," he agreed, nodding emphatically.

"Though I have to admit," she said, shifting herself so that her body was more on top of him, pressing her forehead to his. "Watching you bury that rock to finish that seventh End tonight was a serious turn on. Sexiest delivery I've seen in a long time."

"Made ya really wanna get your rocks off, huh?" His cheeky grin was met with the extra pillow. "Ow!"

**-oooo-**

"This was a good idea."

Chuck looked up from his third McDonald's sausage and egg biscuit and smiled across the table at Sarah. "What? McDonald's? This has been breakfast for the past few days."

"No," she giggled. "I mean, deciding to skip the gym. It made this morning nice and leisurely."

"It did." He paused, glancing around to make sure no one was sitting near enough to overhear, and then he leaned in towards her. "But I feel like the less leisurely part can easily take the place of the gym, if you catch my drift."

He felt a sharp pain in his shin. "Ow. Wha—?"

Sarah's eyes widened as she looked around them. "I catch your drift, Chuck, but I'd prefer it if passersby _didn't_ catch your drift."

"Right, right. Sorry. I thought I said it quiet enough but…" He mimicked zipping his mouth shut.

"Please." She bit her lip then. "But you're right, it totally counts as a workout in my book."

"Score."

" _I'll_ say you did," she muttered.

"This isn't fair," he chuckled. "You can flirt, but I can't?"

"I was much quieter."

He shook his head at her, laughing as he finished off his biscuit. "Just…so we have our story straight. If they ask how the workout went…"

"Spent an hour switching between weights and the stationary bike.""Perfect. Got it. Becks probably won't ask."

She shrugged. "Nah."

Suddenly, they were assailed by Jane and Anna, both of the women sliding their trays up next to Chuck's and Sarah's and plopping down next to them, Jane beside Sarah and Anna next to Chuck.

"Good morning, you two," Jane said. "That was some fancy curling yesterday."

"Thank you," Sarah chirped. "It felt pretty good."

"Yeah, I could tell."

"You two destroyed those Danes. Wow," Anna pitched in, taking out half of her croissant in one bite.

"Hey, hey now." Chuck stuck his hand out. "Inka and Kaarlo are pretty chill. Hopefully after the tournament, I can buy Kaarlo a round. I like that guy."

"Focus on beating him again first…I hear they're supposed to place pretty high and you might have to face them again in the semifinals," Jane said, leaning forward and pointing at him.

He nodded sagely. "True, true."

"You guys didn't buy 'em a round last night?"

Oh. He hadn't even thought about it. Did you do that in the Olympics the way you did during bonspiels? "Uh…"

"We were tired."

"Yep. Super tired. Long day. Had to sleep." He felt Sarah's eyes on him and he thought maybe stopping there would have been the best idea. And yet… "It's crazy. Like, the difference between a bonspiel match and a match in the Olympics. Way more draining. You'll see later when your event starts."

They both nodded. He let out a subtle breath.

"Oh, by the way, on Twitter—" Anna said, fishing her phone out of her Team U.S.A. jacket pocket.

Chuck blanched. "Can we not talk about that shitshow of a place, please?"

"No, it's not bad. It's actually super funny. You know how fast the Internet is. You've got memes already."

"I'm sorry?" Sarah asked.

"Memes, you have memes."

"It's a crack-up," Jane added, gesturing to Anna's phone as the other woman tapped away on it. "You gotta see these."

Chuck and Sarah exchanged a look. At least he wasn't alone in his confusion…and slight concern, as he saw in her face.

"Kay, this is one of my faves," Anna said, turning the screen for him to see. "Get you a man who looks at you the way Chuck looks at Sarah when she delivers a stone."

Chuck took her phone and looked, immediately shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a picture of him peering across the ice with a slight smile, his eyes bright and warm, his broom propped on his shoulder. "Oh my God, I'm probably not even looking at her. That's just my face."

Anna cracked up as he handed the phone across the table to Sarah. She burst into laughter and had to cover her mouth with a hand to muffle it. When she finally pulled her hand away and passed the phone back to Anna, she shook her head. "Pffft. He was probably looking at his boyfriend Kaarlo."

They exchanged an amused look across the table.

"You joke but Kaarlo and I would make a beautiful couple. Admit it."

Sarah quirked an eyebrow and tilted her head in agreement as Jane lifted a hand. "I have no shame in saying that both of you fine specimens together would be beautiful."

"See?" Then he nodded emphatically at Jane. "Also, thank you for calling me a fine specimen. Much obliged."

"Just tellin' it like it is." Then she turned to Anna. "Show 'em the other one. This one's gonna make you wanna die. Just wait."

"Which one? The—oohhh yeah!" Anna cackled as she dug around on her phone some more.

"I don't know if I want to know," his partner drawled, sipping her coffee.

"Just wait. It's hilarious." Anna finally pulled it up and passed it to Sarah first.

Chuck paid close attention to her face, watching it as it went from confusion, to realization, to amusement, and finally, she just chuckled and covered her face with her hand, passing the phone across the table to him.

"I hate the Internet," she groaned.

He snatched the phone to turn it and looked. It was that meme with the stock photo of woman and her boyfriend walking past another woman, and he's twisting around staring at the other woman, obviously interested, and his girlfriend is looking at him with a hilarious look of "how dare you?!" But someone had written "Bryce Larkin" on the girlfriend, "Lawker Shippers" over the boyfriend, and "Bartowsker Ship" over the other woman.

"Are you fuggin' kiddin' me?" he asked, unable to keep from chuckling. He pushed his fist against his mouth to try to stem the chuckles when Sarah sent him a look. "Sorry, it's just…a little funny. And definitely mostly annoying. And a complete intrusion into our personal lives. And also totally and completely fabricated based off of, like, two days of mixed doubles matches. People see what they want, I guess."

Anna grabbed her phone from him. "Oh my God, you two need to have a sense of humor. At least they aren't wishing for you to break your leg anymore, Chuck."

"I mean, some of them still are," Jane added. "Memes like that aren't helping."

He huffed and rolled his eyes.

"But it's…a little funny," Jane said with a wince.

"Can people not? Like, whatever happened to just watching curling?" Sarah asked.

"You two are interesting to watch. And that banter is sort of making people think…things are…well, you know…" She winced again.

"Well, they're not. And we're not," Sarah said, and Chuck was impressed by how steadfast and yet nonchalant she was about it. He really needed to take his cues from her.

"We know that," Anna insisted. "But the memes are still funny."

"I mean…a little. They're clever," Chuck added. "But if any of you ever even try to refer to our mixed doubles team as Bartowsker, I'll destroy everything you love."

The four of them laughed together and the subject changed, but Chuck had those memes trapped in his brain. Not the memes exactly, but the fact that they existed. Maybe part of his and Sarah's connection they had off the ice was bleeding over into how they interacted on the ice. Maybe it showed. Maybe they should dial it back a bit, since they'd decided this morning that keeping all of this completely secret from _everyone_ was the best idea. If they had people making this tournament about them being in a relationship rather than the sport, it would definitely be a distraction, even if being together wasn't a distraction for them on the ice. When this was all over, she told him they could revisit all of the details. But for now, their coaches couldn't know, their families, their friends and teammates, especially no press or the public…none of them could know.

They just had to conduct their extracurricular activities behind closed doors, specifically the closed doors of their Olympic Village apartment. If they managed to keep it there, and there only, they'd be totally fine.

He could do that.

Right?

…Right.

**-oooo-**

As enjoyable as the first half of the day had been, the second half was a bit more trying, Sarah found.

She looked up at the scoreboard.

They were almost at halftime, in the midst of the fourth End, and they were down two points to South Korea's five. As well as she felt she and Chuck were doing with their stones, the Koreans were doing better. Choi Soo-bin was one of the greatest curlers in the world with her deliveries. Her accuracy so far in the match, including her hits, was close to one hundred percent.

And now South Korea was lying three rocks, one biting the button, another in the four foot and a third biting the twelve foot. They'd systematically removed Chuck's two rocks from counting position and now the team only had Sarah's first rock that she'd delivered, just barely biting into the house.

"We removed the guards," Chuck was saying, peering down at their options. "If we knock this one, we could potentially bounce both of their rocks and hope for no roll on the shooter, lay it on the button. That gets us the one point."

Sarah nodded. "Yeah, they've got us cornered. We can only take the one point, I guess."

"You can do it."

She flicked her eyes up to his, smiling a little. "Of course I can."

Sarah slid her way back to where her last rock sat, awaiting its delivery. Either they took this point or South Korea took three, and they'd be losing two to eight. "Damn it," she breathed just quiet enough that she thought maybe people watching at home wouldn't hear.

As she set up the delivery, pulling the rock over in front of the hack with her broom, she glanced down at Chuck. "You gonna give me something to look at over there, bud?"

"Who, me?" he teased, and in spite of the dire situation, she smiled. There was tension in the air. She knew this was an important shot. But the way Chuck was moving, so loose, his voice measured and calm, the way he seemed to not be fretting just yet, buoyed her confidence.

They still had four more ends to come back if this throw didn't do what she needed it to do.

But it would do what she needed it to do. She just had to hit it at the perfect angle and with the perfect strength. If she did it right, the throwing stone would have almost no roll, if any at all.

That was the goal.

Chuck set his broom then and she frowned a bit, straightening up from her delivery position. "No," she said, shaking her head.

"You don't like that?"

"I think it's too on the nose."

"But, see? You hit it right here and it bounces…bam!" He moved his brush to signal where the South Korean rock would hit the other. "This one splits off this way, this guy goes that way, the shooter stays put, we get a point."

Sarah sighed. "It feels like it's gonna end up being too thick. It'll miss the other stone, or just graze it, and they'd get a steal of one, maybe even two depending on how the shooter rolls."

Chuck looked to think it through. She thought he was going to continue arguing. She could see the gears going in his head, and she knew he was running the numbers. If they continued arguing this, they'd run low on time. And she had to trust him.

"Okay," she yelled. "I'll do it more on the nose, like you're saying."

"No."

She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"No, you're right," he continued. "For once." Sarah glared at him as he sent a teasing look down the ice at her. "If you have the right strength hitting it here could mean it rolls into this third stone. That'll keep it from straying too far." She hadn't thought of that.

They met eyes down the ice, and then he said, "Give it to me the way you like it."

A shiver went up and down her spine in the best way possible and she squirmed a bit. He knew exactly what he just said, and he knew how he'd said it, and he knew she'd heard it that way. She could tell as he stood up to his full, towering height and set his broom more to the side.

"How you like this?"

"I like it a lot," she replied, getting into her favorite position behind the last rock of the End. It sucked having to only take one point when you had the hammer, but it was better than letting Choi Soo-bin steal three, damn it.

She slid away from the hack then, making sure to give her delivery enough strength. The two South Korean rocks she was aiming to take out were close enough together that it would take a lot of power to take them both.

As she let go of the rock, she followed it, sweeping.

"Yep! Yep!" Chuck called. "Perfect line. Hard! HARD!"

She arched over the stone, practically scrubbing at the ice with her broom she was sweeping so hard.

"Whoa! Whoa!"

Sarah let up and stepped back, watching as her rock smacked into the red Korean stone right where she'd aimed. The rock then cracked into the other red rock and they both split off towards the twelve foot ring. Miraculously, while the yellow shooter did have some roll, like Chuck had predicted, it lightly bumped the other red, sending it a few inches away, but it kept close to the button, finishing the End with Team U.S.A. taking a point.

She sighed in relief watching the score change. They were only sitting two points down going into the second half of the game.

Beckman met them at the prep room as they filed in, towels around their necks and water in hand.

"We've drawn Canada next. Remember the team that whooped your asses on that last day in Mammoth?" she asked, putting one foot up on the locker bench, leaning over them as they both sat. Sarah nodded.

"Shit, is that them? We lost two-nine," her partner said, eyes wide.

"No. The team you're playing tonight pulverized that team in a bonspiel in Quebec two months ago. Suffice to say, while I believe in you two more than I've ever believed in anyone I've coached before, win this damn game. Because if you don't, you'll have two losses today."

"Gee, thanks Coach," Chuck drawled sarcastically.

"Hey. I'm here to give you the realness."

"Is that what it's called? We can win tonight. It all has to do with—"

"Dear boy, do _not_ say physics. You two are good, but Bisset and Phillips are prepped to take gold. One, they're Canadian. Two, they're the _best_ Canada has to offer. Canada's worst could probably beat the best from other countries," she droned. "And three, they have mowed over the Olympic Athletes from Russia, China, Finland, and I just got off the phone with Graham, they massacred the Swiss."

"So we're just…resigning ourselves to losing tonight then?" Sarah asked.

"Don't be dramatic, Walker. I'm just saying we need this win today, because tonight is going to be way more intense, an uphill battle, if you will. We don't want to be three losses in the hole on just our third day of the event."

Sarah let out a long breath and hung her head, trying to push the tension out of her body.

"Yeah," she heard Chuck mutter. "We'll have quite the battle to come back from if we lose both games today."

"That's all I'm saying," their coach reasoned. "I'm not trying to be the party pooper, but these are the Olympics. We have to tighten our suspenders—"

"Suspenders?"

"Shut up, Bartowski. And what's with all of that banter out there? I re-watched yesterday's games this morning with Graham. Is any of that helping at all?" She made a tired face.

Sarah turned to glance at Chuck and he looked back, before turning to face Diane again.

"Yes. Teasing Sarah helps keep me loose. Laughing, joking…"

"It isn't a distraction, is it?"

"No," Sarah said. "It's…helping me, too. Weirdly enough." She tilted her head and furrowed her brow.

That got them a shrug and a chuckle. "Well, if it works, it works. The team's been diving into social media instead of training while they're _at training_ —like a bunch of freaking idiots—and you two are slowly gaining some real traction with Americans watching the games. People were explaining the rules to mixed doubles in the Bartow…Barst…Ugh, whatever stupid name they've got for you now, there's a whole…what's it called? Hashish whatever?"

Chuck let out a bark of laughter, causing the South Koreans across the room to glance their way, amusement on their faces. "Hashish? You talkin' about a hashtag?" He laughed again and got a teasing smack to the side of his head with his own towel.

"You're an ass. I'm old. Give me a break."

"I'm just sayin'…I'm calling hashtags hashish tags, now."

"My _point_ ," Beckman emphasized as she glanced at her watch. "If the back and forth chit-chatting is somehow helping, I guess that's fine. And it's selling you with fans. Some of them even like _Chuck_."

"Gosh, thanks." He gave her a wry smile.

"I've just never heard curlers talk so damn much before. You two don't shut up."

Sarah had never talked so much while curling before, either. But it worked. It helped. It settled her nerves. It grounded her and kept her from getting too stuck up in her own head. Things were so serious when she'd curled with Bryce as her partner. He got all broody during the games. He was focused but in an unapproachable way. And he was a stick in the mud afterwards if they lost. It had always made her a bundle of nerves. She'd felt tense. She'd slip up, miscalculate, not wanting to have to deal with angry Bryce later.

She didn't have that worry with Chuck. She could just enjoy the game—focus, of course, but enjoy.

Beckman finally left and the attendant called them back onto the ice again. Sarah gave Chuck a bit of a confused look when he stopped her from leaving the room, politely allowing the South Korean team to leave first. They nodded their thanks and smiled.

She didn't understand why he'd done that so pointedly until they stepped into the tunnel. No one could see when Chuck quickly slipped his hand into hers. She felt his fingers tighten, squeeze, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, and just as quickly, his touch was gone.

But God, she still felt it even when she moved into the cold room.

She flexed her hand before picking up her Team U.S.A. Broom, and they placed the rocks per South Korea's instructions since they had the hammer for the fifth End.

It was over an hour later before Chuck and Sarah managed to tie the game up with two Ends left, each team with six points. They were halfway through the seventh End when it happened.

Chuck had the fourth rock at the hack, ready to deliver. All he had to do was hit South Korea's red rock that laid halfway in the four foot ring and halfway in the eight foot ring. That, in turn, would bounce to take out another red rock, leaving the yellow shooter not just in a good counting position, but also buried behind a guard and one of their yellow rocks biting into the twelve foot at the front of the house. It would make it pretty hard for Choi Soo-Bin to take it out.

It was a shot she'd seen him make before.

But he'd had a certain look on his face when he slid to the line, and there was a definite 'oh shit' in his features when he let go of it. The moment he sprang up to his feet and followed, she saw him mouth a curse. "Line?" he asked, sweeping.

_Shit._ What in the hell was that throw?

"Line's off. Line's off!"

He swept even harder but the rock was going to miss the target. Wouldn't matter if he was the strongest sweeper on the planet, that rock wasn't doing what he'd intended it to do.

"Hard!" she yelled anyway. "Haaaaaaard!"

When he finally picked up his broom, sliding back to just watch as it curled past the guard. But when it made contact with the South Korean rock he'd been aiming for, that first rock just slipped out of the house, missing the second rock.

Chuck had missed a double she'd seen him make countless times before.

"Gah, I'm sorry!" he said immediately, pushing his gloved hand through his hair in frustration.

"S'alright. We're okay." She grabbed his shoulder reassuringly.

"No, I just…I didn't feel it at first but right as I was letting go, I realized the handle was loose."

She spun on him. "What?"

"Yeah, the handle on the stone. It's a bit wobbly. It threw me off."

Sarah felt a spike of annoyance go through her but she stamped it down for now, knowing that not only were they mic'd so that all of America could hear them, but Bryce was up there somewhere, gloating. He'd gloat even harder if she said to Chuck what she wanted to say.

"Next time have them tighten the handle before you deliver the stone," she said, clenching her jaw and looking away. She didn't add _Are you SERIOUS right now?_ like she wanted to.

"Oh. I…" He nodded. "Gotcha. Got it."

He must have realized about the mics same as she did, because he didn't say anything else.

The game ended later on that afternoon with the South Koreans taking the match nine points to Team U.S.A.'s eight.

Sarah waited for the mics to come off before she slid up close to Chuck's side and grabbed his arm. "Seriously, Chuck. If a handle is loose, you have to tell an official. Immediately."

"I didn't know that."

She blinked. "You didn't know that? When something's wrong with equipment, you fix it before you use it. It's like that in any sport. Skis, skates, board, stone handle…You get it fixed."

"I didn't know. That's never been a problem before. I've never had it happen."

"A loose handle? That happens all the time, Chuck." They got into the tunnel and she lowered her voice even more. "These are the Olympics. We can't afford to let the freaking handle on the stone be what keeps us from winning games!"

"I'm sorry! I haven't been doing this my whole life, okay? I made a mistake!"

Sarah bit back whatever her snappish reply would have been because they were in the prep room again and shit, one of NBC's reporters was there waiting for her.

Chuck was basically ignored where he stood at her elbow as Eileen Ferrell pulled her in. "So a bit of a disappointment for your first match today, Sarah."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, it's never great to lose by one point, you know? Uh, it always feels like if we'd done one thing differently, we could've won, so…We have things to work on, as always."

"It really seems like the difference was that missed opportunity with the double in the seventh End. Chuck's delivery was just enough off the mark. Is that something you've worked on in training?"

"Uh, yeah. You know, things you do well in training don't always come off one hundred percent perfect every time, and sometimes it just happens to be during a match when you make a mistake." She shrugged and smiled.

"But Chuck said something about the handle being loose. Did you think about taking that to the official?"

Sarah pushed the hair that escaped her ponytail back behind her ear and chose her words carefully, feeling Chuck standing behind her. She couldn't see him at all, and yet she could feel the mortification and shame and frustration emanating off of him. She could just feel it.

And she was suddenly ashamed of herself. She felt terrible.

"Well, when you're in the heat of the game, you can't always tell it's loose 'til you let go, you know?"

"Chuck, is that right? You couldn't tell?"

The microphone was shoved in Chuck's face then. As Sarah looked at him, she saw he was beet red. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, well…See, I sort of push down a little against the running surface when I deliver a rock and I couldn't—I couldn't really tell it was jiggling until I let go and was giving it spin. And by then, it was too late."

"You couldn't have told an official right then?"

"I…"

"You know," Sarah interjected, "we both missed a few here and there and if either one of us had been just a little more perfect, maybe we would have won. Curling is a completely unpredictable sport and you just have to roll with it. No curling pun intended."

"That is true," Eileen chuckled. "All right, well good luck tonight against Canada."

"Thank you," they both said, and Eileen cut. Sarah waited for the reporter and her cameraman to clear out before she moved to sit down finally and when she did, she sagged quite a bit.

They were alone, not even their coaches were in the room yet.

And Sarah opened her mouth to talk to Chuck, to say something, to freaking apologize for biting his head off, to reassure him they were okay, but then Beckman did walk into the room, Graham probably already gone to meet the rest of the team for training or something.

"Beckman, I—"

"I know. I know," Beckman held a hand up, her voice brittle. "The handle on the rock. I'm your coach, though, kid. Not your principal. I'm not going to chew you out. I'll let your partner decide if you deserve a chewing out or not. But in spite of that, you both played a game of curling you can be proud of. Choi Soo-Bin is a wicked little beast of a player, though. I swear, Lee Dae-Suk could just lie down on the ice and do nothing at all and Choi Soo-Bin would still win their team the match." She huffed and shook her head. "Listen, there's nothing I can say right now. Just get some food in you, regroup, I'll meet you both later after dinner, before the next match. We'll look at footage and I'll help you with any questions you have. There are a few things I spotted. Quick fixes. I'll pop into your apartment at seven."

They both nodded, and Beckman clapped her hands together. "Hey! Buck up. Don't feel sorry for yourselves. Fix it and kick ass."

"If I ever have children and they get into sports, I am making a banner that says 'Fix it and kick ass' to take to all of their sport games," Chuck said. They all shared a laugh and Beckman left them alone again.

Sarah listened to the sound of Chuck changing his shoes and she slowly leaned down to do the same.

"Chuck, I'm really sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's okay. You're right—"

"I'm not right. Don't do that."

"Do what?" He blinked in genuine confusion.

"Don't let me get away with being an asshole, Chuck." She smiled a tad when he let out a huff in surprise, his eyes widening. "Seriously," she added. "I bit your head off about the loose handle because—Well, I know if I were in your shoes, I'd like to think I would've felt something was wrong with the handle immediately. And I would have let the officials know, they would've tightened the screws, and I'd be right back on my game. But the thing is, I'm not you. I've been curling since I was a kid practically. And I've been doing this professionally since I was, like, sixteen. Every last bit of it is instinctual by now. It's in my blood. You have a loose handle? Get it fixed. Seems easy enough to me. But you're right in that you're new to all of this. I was too harsh and it was unfair of me."

He let out a long breath. "I shouldn't have just ignored it and kept going. I should've stopped." He thumped himself in the head with the heel of his palm. "Gah, if I'd had them tighten the handle, if I'd just _said something_ instead of not knowing what the protocol was and just going anyway instead of asking…We could've won if I wasn't such an idiot. We'd be at three wins and one loss. Instead we've got two wins and two losses. And we're going into this Bisset and Phillips match next…I just hope we don't get spanked."

Sarah sniffed in wry amusement and shook her head. "We just might end up getting spanked, so prepare yourself, buddy boy." Her shoes changed, she grabbed her sweatshirt and shrugged it on, letting Chuck help her into her coat. "But I just need you to know I'm not angry about the handle, Chuck." She turned to face him and held onto one of his hands in both of hers. "It bothers me a lot when my team loses a match by one point. It's just…so close. And I obsess over the small things I could've done differently to win. Like I told that reporter."

"Hey…" She met his eyes. "Thanks for covering for me. I mean, you had every right to throw me under the bus. This _dumb ass_ the federation stuck you with didn't know you're supposed to stop when the handle is loose," he said, giving her a crooked smirk. She giggled through her nose and shook her head. "But ya didn't. I didn't think it was possible I could feel any luckier than I felt this morning when I woke up and you were…next to me. But nope. It's possible. It's happening. Right now." He pointed down with both fingers, grinning goofily as she giggled again. "Seriously," he said, sobering a bit, his eyes so warm and beautiful. "Thank you, Sarah. None of the fellas in this event have a better teammate than I do."

She couldn't help but beam at him. This guy was such a good curler, one of the best she'd seen. He had a gift that couldn't be learned, something in his blood. She recognized it in him because she had it in herself. But he was still rough around the edges. There was still a lot he needed to learn, some of the finer touches, the culture of the sport…little details people learned as they got more experience at the top level of curling.

"You're welcome," she said softly.

She moved to pull away and sling her bag over her shoulder, but he grabbed her hand gently and lifted it to his lips. The kiss was warm and slow, and her toes curled in her boots at the look he gave her through his eyelashes.

Yes, he had a lot to learn when it came to curling.

But she was more than willing to teach him whatever he needed to know.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

He could see her disappointment in the slump of her shoulders, even as she smiled through her second interview that day, after their second loss that day. She laughed with Joe Samson, the reporter sent by ESPN. She joked about her mom having always thought curling was a boring sport, but then she'd called the other day and told her that she'd turned it on in the morning and the next time she looked up, she'd actually had it on all day and had been totally transfixed by it.

She was so good at it, doing these impromptu interviews, giving personality and little anecdotes, not letting her true emotions show through. And he let her take point, only talking when he was spoken to, playing off of her mood with a big smile of his own.

How this woman was given the title "Ice Queen", and the mostly non-curling reasoning behind it, he sincerely didn't understand.

Chuck wasn't self-important enough to think he was the only one to see the slump of her shoulders, though. He knew their coaches and their teammates saw it. But everyone congratulated them, patted them on the back in the U.S.A. building's lobby before heading out for team bonding—which meant drinks, he knew.

They'd been invited, even with Beckman and Graham's consent, but he and Sarah had wordlessly agreed they'd rather not be out too late, especially not to drink. Even if it might get their minds off of the dismal record they were currently posting.

Two wins and three losses.

So dismal.

Though he supposed no wins would be worse, he really felt this last loss in his gut.

It was a loss to Canada's top mixed doubles team. He shouldn't be this disappointed, when they'd really only lost five points to eight. And he'd thought it would be a blow-out.

Chuck held the door open for Sarah and let her walk into their apartment first. He followed and shut the door behind him, just standing there for a bit and watching as she slowly unwrapped herself from the multiple layers she'd put on after their match.

"Everybody said we played well," she finally said, stopping and turning to face him. "And I know we played well. I know we did. We should've lost by way more, and we would've if it weren't for your shot that got us a steal of three in the sixth End. I'm just…I don't know why, I just feel like we should've won. I was ready to win it."

He nodded. "We're on the same page."

"Aren't we always?" She looked over her shoulder at him with a smile as she hung her damp snow jacket in the closet. She reached out towards him and he took her meaning, unzipping himself and shrugging his own jacket off, handing it to her.

"Yeah," he said. "Thanks."

"Sure." She sighed, hanging his jacket up and shutting the closet. "This just sucks."

"I think I honestly had this Made-For-TV-Disney-Sports-Movie plot twist stuck in my head tonight. Like, we _deserved_ a win, because we're the _good guys_ , and somehow we'd just pull off this miracle upset against the best team in the tournament." He chuckled at himself and shook his head. "Ridiculous, I know. But it's how my mind works sometimes. I'm a bit of an idealist."

"Are you?" She smiled slowly. "I didn't know that. But it makes sense."

He snorted. "Because I'm a video game playing, fantasy loving, stargazing nerd?"

She just shook her head but didn't clarify, still smiling at him.

Chuck tugged his boots off and unwrapped his scarf, his mind going a mile a minute. He'd had his own idea of how this tournament was going to go. It was childish and silly, he knew. It was unrealistic. But he saw people changing their minds about the their mixed doubles team…about _him_. The nasty tweets and the sharing of his crash video would morph into high praise about his skill on the ice, about his physics-driven play, his impressive brain. Sarah would be the hero of the Olympics. She'd see him as the perfect partner. They'd just click so seamlessly that they'd win every match and end up with gold medals. It was a pipe-dream, an endgame he kept locked up tight in his heart. It was something that only happened in the movies.

But he was disappointed anyway and he felt foolish.

"I'm sorry this isn't panning out the way we both wanted it to," he said finally as they both shuffled away from the door and further into the apartment.

She sent him a look, her brow furrowed and lips pursed. "You know, it isn't all that terrible, Chuck."

"No, I know. I mean, we won both of our matches yesterday. It's not like we're zero for five or something. I'm just…" He sighed. "I'm bummed still, ya know? I wanted to be able to do better. For the team. For us. For you."

"Hey, remember what we talked about…" She sent him a warning look.

"For me, too. Obviously. I wanted this to go better for me, too. I'm kind of sick of the negative tweets about me. A friend of mine from my LA club emailed something to me this morning…last night…? I don't know, the time difference is all crazy in my head. But it was a blog post about how disappointing it is to see Bryce as just a commentator instead of him being out on the ice with you. And when is Chuck Bartowski going to show he was worth the hype the association put into him? Blaaaah blah blahblah blaaah!" He grumbled and frowned deeply.

"Chuck, people are going to have opinions. A lot of them are going to have _stupid_ opinions. They'll be utterly wrong. Completely shallow and petty. Do you really think the woman who wrote that blog post knows a damn thing about curling?" Sarah asked, stepping in front of him to force him to stop walking and putting her hands on her hips. "Do you think she's ever even stepped onto the ice, held a broom, seen a curling stone up close?"

"Well, she—Wait, how'd you know it's a woman?"

"Lacey Whoever-The-Hell. She writes sports blog stuff and isn't affiliated with any _actual_ news source, but somehow people still read her shit and spread it around like it's the Lord's gospel." She huffed. "My mom emailed me that same post this morning, Chuck. I told her to never send me that hack's shit again—in nicer words—and then promptly sent it to my trash. It's a bunch of second hand shit with her opinions stuffed into it. And then she goes off on these sanctimonious diatribes about people not taking women in sports media seriously, which is true, but bitch, you aren't real media with your improperly sourced bullshit opinion pieces. Go to journalism school."

Chuck blinked.

"I—Um, I looked into her site when my mom sent me that. Just to make sure I could drag her and have the receipts for it." She crossed her arms and made a grumpy face, looking a tad bit uncomfortable with how much she'd just revealed. She'd revealed enough, he thought to himself. Like the fact that she'd gotten a bit protective of him maybe and torched the woman who wrote those things about him in particular? He tried not to preen.

Sarah sighed and put her hands on his shoulders, looking up at him with those eyes of hers. He swore, in this lamplight, they looked the color of the sky when the sun had just finished setting, flecks of yellow amidst the deepest blue… Oh, she was talking.

"—and I need you to understand that."

He swallowed thickly. "I-I'm sorry. I'll be completely honest with you, I didn't catch that. Your eyes are super pretty up close. I know; it's kinda stupid because I've seen them up close plenty of times. It just…struck me again, right at this moment. Can you, uh, can you repeat?"

She shook her head a little, and then her hands were cupping his face and her lips were pressed against his. He immediately curled his arms around her and pulled her in closer, cradling her, kissing her back. And when she finally broke the kiss, she dove in to hug him tightly, her face pressed into his neck. "Sometimes I don't even get how you're real."

When Sarah stepped back, she slipped a hand over his neck and rubbed gently.

"Trust me, I am. Did you see that shit I pulled with the loose handle today?"

She rolled her eyes, and with a good-natured glint in her eyes, she said, "Good point."

That made him laugh.

"Chuck, stop paying attention to all of that crap. It means nothing."

"I can't help it," he half-whined, letting his head fall back and looking up at the ceiling. "I hate it when people don't like me," he added, lowering his head to look at her again. "I like to be liked. I care about how people perceive me. It gets under my skin. It always has."

She tilted her head, just looking at him for a long moment. And then she made her lips into a bit of a pout. "That's kinda cute." She sighed. "But you need to understand—and this is what I was saying before you said that beautiful stuff about my eyes—the people out there who are oh-so-bravely announcing their opinions about you, comparing you to Bryce, talking crap on you…Lacey Assface, included…None of those people are here. None of them were with Bryce and I when we were doing three bonspiels a month in the height of our partnership. None of them really know what happens on the actual ice during matches, let alone what happens behind doors."

"Well, we made the joint decision not to let anyone know we're having _the sex_ ," he teased and he got the desired effect: a short, adorable little snort.

"Having?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow flirtatiously. "Just assuming this is something that's gonna continue to happen, aren't you?" Chuck knew she was teasing him back, flirting with him, but he still didn't know how to respond. She winked and he knew beyond a doubt that what happened last night and this morning, would in fact continue to happen.

Sarah dropped the act and sighed, reaching up to fix the hood of his sweatshirt. "Do you wanna know what Bryce would do if we lost? Even when our relationship was, for all intents and purposes, in a pretty good place."

"What would he do?"

"He wouldn't talk to me for over an hour after the match. He got all broody and pissy. I thought it was cute the first few times, but it got annoying really fast." She pulled her lips to the side and arched her eyebrows. "And during a match, I'd disagree with him about where to hit the opponent's rock. Instead of listening or talking it out, he'd just ignore me completely and do it his own way. Sometimes he was right, but sometimes he was wrong. Anytime I'd tell him to go harder, he'd ignore me…" She started playing with the zipper of his sweatshirt then, slowly easing it down. "I don't seem to have that problem with you." When her eyes flicked up to his, he felt the heat immediately. Was she still talking about curling? Was that the point? Was this going where he suddenly hoped it was going?

"I trust you know what you want," he said slowly.

He saw her swallow, and then her fingers dragged down his chest, past his abdomen, and latched onto his belt buckle. She tugged at the strap meticulously and he found it difficult to breathe suddenly.

"I do." She paused then, and he saw a tinge of pink rise to her cheeks. She lifted an eyebrow and diverted her gaze. "And this isn't something I particularly want anyone out there to know but…" She let out a long breath. "Last night was the first time I've ever had someone go down on me. So that's a piece of information these armchair curling experts are missing when they talk shit on you in comparison to Bryce."

Chuck Bartowski felt every last drop of blood in his body rush to the spot between his legs and he didn't even think to check to see if anything was behind him before he teetered back. Luckily, he found himself sitting on the back of the couch instead of on the floor with a massive bruise on his backside. "Uh…" he squeaked.

Sarah seemed rather pleased with herself as she stepped up to him and leaned down to continue working on his belt. She got it unbuckled and very carefully, slowly, pulled it out of the loops, letting it drop to the floor then with a loud thud.

"None of these people matter. None of them are competing in this tournament, on this team. _I_ am. I was there, dealing with an insubordinate teammate, an average boyfriend in _every_ aspect of our relationship. And I'm here now, with a partner who communicates with me, who sets me at ease, who apologizes when he makes a mistake. And is forgiving and understanding when I make one." She popped the button of his pants and then eased the zipper down. Chuck glanced down quickly and thought he'd die when her hand then tucked inside. He forced himself to look back up at her face, knowing he probably looked ridiculous, but holy crap. _Holy crap._ "I don't think I have to say the next part. Instead, I can probably just show you. What do you think?"

"Yes. Definitely. Absolutely. Immediately."

She beamed and giggled, pulling her hand out of his pants.

Chuck stood and grabbed her by her hips, hoisting her up as she leapt into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

They both laughed as he walked them into the bedroom, reaching back with a foot to slam that door shut and going straight for the closest bed.

-oooo-

Sarah woke up to the sounds of measured breathing and grunting. She frowned a little in confusion as she blinked her eyes open, pushing herself to sit up in bed.

She could still hear it.

Peering around the room, she saw that she was alone. Chuck wasn't in his bed, where he'd finally moved last night after a few hours of playing around in her bed.

She finally swung her legs out of bed and stood up, stretching her arms over her head, yawning. It was freezing. Too freezing for her feet to be bare, so she stepped into her slippers and shrugged on her Team U.S.A. training jacket. She wrapped it tight around her body as she shuffled out of the bedroom and immediately found Chuck on the ground doing sit-ups.

He stopped as he caught sight of her, flopping down onto his back first and then pushing himself to sit, smiling breathlessly. "Hey," he panted. "Morning."

"Good morning. Getting a workout in before I even wake up, huh? I'm impressed." She smoothed a hand down her hair, a bit vainly. After all, in spite of living together for the past few months, she didn't need him to see Morning Sarah at her worst. She blinked sleep away even more and yawned again.

"Wanna join me?"

"Down there? Nah." She giggled with her tongue between her teeth and walked further into the room. "Actually, I was thinking of getting the rest of the girls down to the gym early this morning."

"Ahhhh, a gym sesh that I'm not invited to, huh?"

"Not this time, partner. I mean, not that I don't like you, but I need some girl time." She walked over and ruffled his hair to let him know she was teasing. But as she tried to walk around him towards the coffee table where she'd left her phone the night before, Chuck reached up and grabbed her hand, holding fast.

"Hey…"

"Hey, what?" She looked down at him and decided he looked pretty cute down there, his shirt all wrinkled and his hair a mess, a little out of breath still from the sit-ups.

"We're gonna win today," he said, and she was a little surprised. She didn't know what she'd expected him to say, but it wasn't that. "I can feel it. I-I mean I woke up with this certain feeling…in my chest."

"Has Becks passed that weird tingle of hers onto you?" she asked.

He laughed. "Maybe she has. I just know what I feel. We've got this."

Sarah grinned and lowered herself down to her knees next to him. "Teasing aside, Chuck, I feel something like that, too. My confidence is peaking."

"So is mine," he said. "I know we're just young Americans in a world of more experienced, older curlers from places where curling is actually super popular," she snorted at that, "but I think we can do this."

"We can."

"Also, can I have a kiss? Because that's usually really good for my confidence, as well."

She giggled, overwhelmed by how adorable this man was, and she leaned in and gave him a long kiss.

Fifteen minutes later, she was in the gym with Anna, Jane, and Lou. They broke off into pairs, Jane with Sarah, Anna with Lou. Jane was lying at an angle on one of the machines, her head dangling. Sarah stood above her, catching the weight ball every time Jane sat up and tossed it to her.

"So what I want to know is this," Lou said, standing next to Sarah and doing the same for Anna. "Could kimchi go on a sandwich?"

"Why are you always talking about food?" Anna groaned between sit-ups.

"Because food is amazing. Oh, and I also own a sandwich shop."

"Good point on both counts," Sarah said. "That's twenty, Jane."

"Ah shit, I have to do twenty more of these?" her partner whined.

"Yes. Because I had to." Sarah turned to Lou as Jane continued her sit-ups. "I think kimchi would be good on a sandwich. Like, imagine it on a pork slider or something."

Lou groaned. "Oh my God, I like the way you think, Walker. I might bring some of Korea home with me and put that on the menu. Wait, like a piece of pork or—"

"Mm mm, nope. Pulled pork," Jane said.

"Agree. Pulled pork," Anna added. "Ugh, screw all of you. I'm so hungry now."

"Kimchi on a Reuben!" the sandwich girl said, catching the ball squarely and just holding it as Anna finished her forty sit-ups.

Sarah's stomach grumbled as she held her ball under her armpit and used her free hand to help Jane clamber off of the machine safely.

The foursome had the women's team event right after the mixed doubles event ended and Beckman, especially, was going pretty hard on them with needing to get to a place where they were "chummy", was her word.

Lou was a newcomer, having been pulled in from Duluth, Minnesota last minute from a team that got on Graham's radar after winning a few national bonspiels. But the good thing was that Sarah was their skip, Jane their third, Anna their second, and Lou was tacked on as the lead shooter. As lead shooter, Lou placed guards and draws and set-up the strategy, but the throws after that were the majorly important ones. Not that she was unimportant, but her not being on the team for as long as the other women wouldn't have much of a negative effect.

And now they had to make an effort to pull her into their clique, so to speak.

It wasn't so hard, Sarah found. She was nice, outgoing, liked talking about food and motorbiking and how much she hated her ex-boyfriend. That was something Sarah could use to relate to her, for sure. Granted, the guy sounded like he might be part of some sort of criminal smuggling ring, so…that was a little unsettling.

Anna's phone beeped then and she walked over to grab it. With an "ugh" she let it fall back onto her jacket.

"What?" Sarah asked, drying the sweat on her neck and face with a towel and leaving it hanging over her shoulder.

"I'm tired of Tyler's stupid 'what are you doing tonight' texts. He needs to lay the hell off."

Sarah widened her eyes at the other women. "I…didn't know that was a thing."

"It isn't," the woman said through clenched teeth, pointing threateningly.

"Okay," she chuckled, holding her hands up in surrender.

"I've gotten them, too," Jane said offhandedly. "It's just what he does."

"What I wanna know is does Chuck ever do stuff like that?"

Sarah quickly looked up at Lou, taking in the smirk on the petite woman's face. It wasn't difficult to read. "No," she said. "He doesn't."

She secretly eyed the woman a bit harder then as she saw the cranks turning in her head. "He seems like a pretty nice guy."

"Who, Chuck?" Anna asked. She shrugged. "He's fine, I guess."

"What?" Lou laughed. "In this sport, guys under forty who aren't build like sub sandwiches are seriously rare. Chuck can get it. All tall and goofy with that hair."

Sarah kept quiet, busying herself by picking up her phone and pretending she was doing something important on it.

"I mean, back me up, Sarah. You're his teammate in the mixed doubles event. Like, aren't you two living together or something? Wait, you kids aren't together are you? I don't wanna—"

"No." Sarah looked up from her phone and shook her head. "No, we aren't. We're friends. Partners."

"Oh." Lou shrugged. "Don't wanna be a home wrecker."

"Why?" Jane asked, then, and Sarah saw a hint of a frown on her face. "You thinking of moving in on him or something?"

The team's lead just shrugged. "I dunno. I might. We're both the new kids on the U.S. Olympic curling team, yeah? We have that in common. He seemed kind of open and welcoming yesterday when I bumped into him in the lobby."

"He's like that with everybody," Anna said. "A big ol' boy scout."

Sarah silently reminded herself over and over and over again that Lou Palone had made clear that she was interested in Chuck only if he wasn't already attached. She didn't know there was… _something_ …between him and Sarah. How would she know that? She and Chuck made a pact not to tell anyone, even their family. Coach Beckman didn't even know. Jane didn't know. Ellie didn't even know and she was Chuck's sister.

This was no time for jealousy. Lou was a teammate. _She's my teammate. She's my teammate. She's my teammate._

"Well, don't."

Sarah's head snapped up and she stared at Jane with wide eyes.

"That boy has mixed doubles he needs to focus on. No distractions. And if you're on our team, we don't want any distractions here, either."

Lou made a bit of a face. "Oh. Sorry. No, that makes sense. I just…I dunno, getting to know him better wouldn't be _that_ much of a distraction, right? He just seems really nice."

He was nice. The nicest. But he also wasn't available. And _damn it_ , Sarah couldn't make that known.

"I'm not trying to bite your head off, Lou. I just think intra-office dating isn't going to go well." Jane paused for a second, and then gestured to Sarah. "Look what happened when Sarah was dating Bryce, for God's sake."

"Hey!" Sarah snapped, glaring half-heartedly.

"Sorry. Hate to throw you under the bus but…Am I wrong?"

She just pouted a bit. "No."

"Ruined the entire team dynamic and almost fucked up all of our Olympics. Not that it's your fault, Sar."

Sarah just continued pointing a bit, but she couldn't be too miffed, since Jane was unknowingly doing her a huge solid here.

"Oh, shit. Good point. I promise I'll be good. Scout's honor. But, um…after the events, fair game right?"

No one answered her as they all headed for the machines, but as Sarah climbed onto the elliptical, she couldn't stop the feeling of that dark cloud—that green-eyed monster cloud—in her chest. It wasn't fair. It was silly, even. But Lou was cute. She was nice. She owned her own deli in Duluth. She was cool, too. She rode around on motorbikes and even talked about her "fencing instructor" which meant she knew how to fight with a sword. And what comic-book loving, video game playing, fantasy nerd wouldn't be interested in _that_? It would be a lot less problematic for Chuck if he dated a girl like Lou. Sarah had baggage, more baggage than just Bryce and her semi-fame in the curling world. She'd only reconnected with her mom a year ago, and her dad…who even knew where he was or what trouble he was in? Did she want to know? Did she even care? …Yes. She did. And that was part of what made the baggage so heavy.

It wasn't the time to dwell on any of that though because as nice and polite and open as Chuck probably was with Lou the other day—whatever it was she was referring to—Sarah knew he wasn't nearly as attentive as he'd been to her in the last eight weeks, not even counting the last two nights in which neither of them got much sleep. It got to the point last night that he had to put physical distance between them and go to his own bed to force them to sleep.

This whole extra something that was going on between her and Chuck, this behind-closed-doors physical intimacy, was too good to do anything but just enjoy, protect, and preserve. It felt amazing. And even just in a physical sense, she felt so energized and weightless and loose.

Not to mention, sleeping with Chuck had been a huge boost to her confidence. The two losses yesterday had taken a chunk out of that confidence, in spite of how well they'd both performed. But then he'd taken her to bed again and it was so freaking fun. Pure enjoyment. It was so different from anything she'd ever experienced before. Giggling and laughing and teasing during sex…He was equal parts goofy and sexy and she didn't even know how to deal with that. It made her so much more open, mischievous, and relaxed. Not _physically_ relaxed, as much as she was emotionally and mentally relaxed.

She didn't have to hold back, either. He wordlessly made her feel like it was okay for her to continue doing things that made her feel insanely good, to ask for things…or, rather, to _beg_ …the few times it got that far. She noticed how much he paid attention to her cues, how he listened to her encouragement and kept doing the things she was particularly vocal during.

The confidence came from just how much she could feel Chuck Bartowski wanted her. And, she had to admit as she unconsciously moved even faster on the elliptical, the way he didn't hold back when they were together. He made it more than clear how good she made him feel, and there wasn't even an ounce of shame in him about it. It was the most gratifying thing. She was surprised her ego hadn't exploded by now thanks to the sounds she got out of him. Or how eagerly he'd tell her when he liked something, how pure and adorable and sexy he was when he gave her words of encouragement…

"Sarah!"

She stopped suddenly, her legs winding down a bit, huffing and puffing as she pulled her earbuds out of her ears and looked over at Anna. She was staring with wide eyes, her jaw slack.

"What?" she panted.

"Girl, you're going a little insane on that elliptical. Thought you were gonna lift off into fuckin' space, like a blonde curling-master version of Sally Ride. You have two matches today. Do you want to still be able to use your legs for that or no?"

"Oh." She laughed breathlessly, pulling back and turning off the machine altogether. "Donna Summer gets me pumped, I guess." She twirled her earbud teasingly. "Actually, ladies, I think I'm gonna call it. I need to eat and shower and rest for a bit before the match."

They all said their good lucks and Lou got in one last teasing, "Tell Chuck I said hi!" before Sarah finally got out of the gym and trekked to the building with the dining hall. She allowed herself some grumbling along the way. Anyone who saw her might think she was grumbling at the snow that seemed to be pretty consistent on and off since they'd arrived in PyeongChang a few days earlier. But no, most of it was about her current more-than-partnership thing with her mixed doubles teammate and roommate, and how the bullshit drama with Bryce made it that much harder for her to just not worry about whether people knew about her and Chuck. And now with the added wrench of Lou obviously being interested in Chuck, and _staying_ interested because she didn't know he was involved with Sarah. She _couldn't_ know. Nobody could know. It would screw everything up.

God, she could just imagine the stupid headlines about their "affair" and the assumptions people would make about her. That she couldn't be on a team with a man and not jump into his pants.

But it wasn't like that at all.

It wasn't like anything she'd ever experienced before.

Now she had Lou in her head, though. She was really freaking nice. She wanted to be friends. But if the deli-owner continued to pursue Chuck in spite of Jane's surprisingly intense attempt to throw her off the scent, so to speak, Sarah didn't know how she would deal with it. She'd have to tell Chuck about it and look ridiculous, wouldn't she? _Listen, she wants to date you and I need you to just tell her flat-out that you're not interested. Kay, thanks._

Sarah rolled her eyes at herself as she walked into the dining hall, yanking her gloves off and hanging them over her shoulder as she went straight for the coffee. God, the coffee here was good, too. She got a latte and a muffin, then headed over to order a massive omelet with everything but the kitchen sink in it.

Just as she was about to pick up her tray, pay, and find a spot to sit, Chuck sidled up next to her at the counter and nabbed an orange juice. "Hey! Perfect timing. I've got your breakfast."

She just barely contained her grin at seeing him so suddenly when she hadn't been expecting it. "Uh, w-what? Hi. What do you mean, you've got my breakfast? I've got it."

"Nah. You paid for my dinner last night."

"Yeah, because I went and got us take-out so that we could eat in the apartment. It's not a big deal."

"No, I know. That's why I'm buying your breakfast." They got up to the register and Chuck gestured to his tray and hers. "All of this, please."

She rolled her eyes at him and let him pay, then she followed him over to a table that was a bit more isolated.

It wasn't until they sat down across from each other at the small two person table that she realized he only had a bowl of oatmeal and orange juice. She gawked long enough that he must have noticed.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm um…not hungry really. Kind of nervous. You left me in our apartment by myself for way too long and I had a lot of really bad thoughts and then I went onto Twitter which was a terrible idea, just terrible, and now I've got a lot of pent up nervous energy and all I can really eat is this porridge shit."

Sarah blinked. "Wow. Uh…"

"I'm not serious about you leaving me alone for too long, obviously. I'm not a child or…that needy. But I am nervous. And I did look at Twitter." He huffed and hung his head. "I'm ashamed."

"Chuck, why the hell do you keep doing this to yourself?"

"I don't know. I'm starting to think maybe I'm a masochist."

She couldn't help but giggle at that, shaking her head. She knew she couldn't touch him the way she wanted to. His curls were right there, though…all she had to do was reach out and she could drag her fingers through them, rub his neck, his shoulder, hold his hand…

But she just continued digging into her omelet instead, stamping down the urge.

"You're not a masochist," she argued. "But you really should put a stop to your need to know what people are saying about you."

"I knooow, but I really, really wanted to tweet about how the snow outside reminded me of the movie _Fargo_. So…"

Sarah stared at him for a moment. "You _had_ to tweet about that?"

"It felt very important that I let people know. Yes."

She just shook her head at him and smiled. "God, you are the strangest but cutest person and I honestly don't even know what to do about it."

He didn't seem to know how to respond to that, taking a small bite of his "porridge" instead.

"Listen, nervous or not, you need to eat your breakfast. Because I don't want you getting hungry in the middle of our game against Sweden. We'll be wearing mics again, remember, and I don't want all of America hearing your stomach grumble." She gave him a cheeky grin as he narrowed his eyes at her. "More importantly, we need to start shifting our focus. Remember what we agreed on this morning? We both feel really good. Right?"

"Yes. But that was before—"

"No. Whatever you've done since then, forget about it. Grab onto that good feeling again. You had it for a reason."

He leaned in closer. "I have a theory. I think that was the afterglow still from the sex last night."

She rolled her eyes and bit her cheek. "It wasn't. Did you feel this way yesterday morning before we lost both our games?"

He paused. "No."

"No," she chirped, nodding once. "Exactly. Today is our day, Chuck Bartowski. We felt it. Whatever you read on Twitter, it's trash. Garbage. Shit. What you feel right there…" She poked him in the chest and he jumped in surprise. "…is way, way more important. Trust your gut more than you trust random people who hide behind a fake name and an egg picture."

Chuck sighed and nodded. "You're right. I feel better. I want actual food now."

She laughed and pushed her plate closer to him. "Here. Have half of my omelet. I packed it with a bunch of stuff and I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach."

"You sure?"

Shoving the plate closer with a nod, she watched him eagerly cut a chunk of the omelet and carefully transfer it to his side of the table.

"Okay, so I'm not going to forget _everything_ from after that good feeling, though, because I did some research on the Swedish team. Carina Miller loves to use guards. They make their points by being very patient and methodical. So they try to play as many no points Ends as possible, right? Just back and forth knocking one another's shooters out of contention until no one is in the house, the End finishes as a blank. And then when you start getting used to that, Miller starts laying guards, and she slips a draw in there, then makes sure it's buried. And slowly but surely she builds the points up. Suddenly you see they've got six points to your two or something. And it's too late."

Sarah frowned. "I don't even understand how that works."

"I watched a few of their matches on YouTube, fast forwarded through the blank Ends, but they did that for two different matches. Went three Ends with blanks in the second match I watched. They love low-scoring games. It's crazy because it works."

"Or maybe it works because it's crazy?" she asked with a shrug.

"Maybe. We can use this to our advantage, though."She bit her lip and broke off a piece of her muffin, popping it in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "Chuck, curling is…it's about what _we're_ doing. It's about our game, you know? Our shots. Our strategy. It isn't like football or something where you try to throw off the other team, trick them or whatever." She winced. "And I know Carina from past competitions. I really like her a lot. I can't—"

"No, no. I know. There's an unspoken integrity and sportsmanship aspect to curling. It's part of what drew me in once I really started competing. We don't have to _trick_ Carina and Oscar, though. That's not what I'm suggesting at all. We just stop them from executing their plan by executing a plan of our own. Trust me. I studied them this morning while you were working on your guns—" That made her laugh, shaking her head. He seriously said the funniest things at the most unexpected moments and she loved it. "I've got it up here," he said with a chuckle, pointing to his temple. "And I have a plan."

Sarah gave him a slow smirk, sipping her latte just as slowly. And then she scanned the dining hall. How many of the athletes in this room were prepared to do whatever they had to in order to win a medal? These were the Olympics, damn it.

Chuck Bartowski wasn't a seasoned curler. He wasn't a veteran. He wasn't a big name. He didn't have any titles under his belt. He used to be a ski jumper, for God's sake. But the guy was really good at thinking outside of the box. He was really good at the element of surprise. He was her partner. They were going to rise up together, or they were going to fall together.

Either way, she felt like it was kind of a win-win if she could manage to get Chuck to stick around.

Her eyes flicked back to his and she nodded minutely. It was enough of a nod though, and his smile widened.

-oooo-

God, he felt so validated.

The first End finished as a blank, just like Chuck had told Sarah it would. And it meant Sweden kept the hammer for the second End, but they would push for another blank End…two Ends of no scoring. It was how they liked to start. Testing, feeling out the game.

But per their plan they'd spent the rest of the morning working on, Sarah tested Sweden's top women's team curler, Carina Miller, with the second rock, Chuck having delivered their first. She bumped Sweden's yellow rock out of the house, settling her red shooter on the four foot ring, and the American team stood to the side to watch as Carina's shot bumped that red out towards the back, inching it just outside of the house.

"That's a really good shot," he heard Sarah breathe.

"It is."

Sweden expected Sarah to continue the pattern and bump Carina's shooter out…rinse and repeat. But Chuck turned and looked at Sarah. "What are you thinking?"

"Oh, you mean, am I going to take their shooter out? No. I'm thinking a corner guard," she said.

He raised his eyebrow. He didn't entirely know where she was going with this, but he liked that. Biting his lip, he ducked his head. "Okay. Cool, cool…I like it. Do it."

Sarah scooted past Carina Miller and as they passed, they shared a smirk. He wondered if the Swede knew what her opponent was doing, if she knew they'd figured out her and Oscar's tactic and were in the process of deciding how to kill it.

She was smart—a genius, really. In a really cunning, hot way, honestly.

And she also looked straight out of the pages of some sort of fashion magazine, with shimmering red hair pulled back in a stylish ponytail and tall, statuesque body. And Oscar Bergqvist _was_ a model. His blond hair was pulled into a man bun at the back of his head and his facial hair made him look like he was straight out of a movie about clean, good-looking vikings or something. It all just felt so unfair.

And he stood a bit taller, running a hand down his front to fix the hem of his red Team U.S.A. jersey. At least he was taller than Oscar. And he felt petty for thinking it. They were both such nice people. It wasn't any more their fault that they were blessed by the gods than it was Sarah's fault she was blessed by the gods. If he didn't begrudge her, there was no reason for him to begrudge Sweden's mixed doubles team.

Chuck stepped up and placed his broom. "This lookin' good to ya?" he asked as Sarah pulled a red rock over and knelt down at the hack. She got into position and concentrated for a second. "Or are you thinking here?" He moved the brush a bit.

"First one," she called out. "Definitely."

Where was she going with this? The idea they'd talked about to interrupt Sweden's game plan was to slip a draw into the four foot ring, just biting into the eight foot. If Carina took the bait and went after it, they'd drop a center guard, then start trying to bury rocks behind it.

But instead…a guard first…

He trusted Sarah blindly. Blindly? Maybe. Yes. Definitely.

She just had so much experience. She knew the game better than anyone he'd ever met. She lived it and breathed it. If she had a plan, he was going to follow her lead, the way she'd agreed to follow his this morning.

Sarah placed the guard perfectly, having to just sweep a bit of the ice to the side to make sure it curled right where she wanted to, and he just watched, not even having to guide her, really.

And as she sidled up next to him, he didn't ask what she was doing. He wanted to figure it out for himself because he loved a good puzzle, especially one that came out of this woman's brain.

By the time Sarah and Carina had battled back and forth a few times, it was Chuck's turn to deliver Team U.S.A.'s last rock of the second End. Sarah had amazingly set it up so that she had two red rocks buried in the house behind that first guard and one of Sweden's yellow rocks biting into the house.

Another of Carina's rocks was sitting just inside of the button. Alone. Unprotected.

"Here?" Sarah asked down the ice, her broom set for him to gauge his shot.

"That's the sweet spot," he teased, getting a roll of the eyes. He spotted the smile anyway and he inwardly grinned. Within just half a minute, Chuck had the yellow rock that had been in the button completely taken out of play, and he'd managed to get very little roll on it, meaning they were lying three rocks in the house.

The crowd near them erupted into applause. He got the glory even though Sarah had done all of the insanely brilliant work, but she didn't seem perturbed by it. Instead, she put a hand up for a high five as he slid up to her. Instead, he grabbed her hand and held onto it, meeting her eyes. He felt the smoldering air between them, that fiery hot connection, and he had to look away, letting go of her before all of America—the world, even—saw the full extent of his feelings for her. He wasn't even ready for _her_ to know the full extent. He wasn't even sure _he_ knew.

Oscar delivered the hammer, then, both of the Swedes jumping in to sweep.

But when it hit the shooter Chuck had just placed, while it knocked that rock out of the house, the outcome Chuck had been expecting, he'd also expected the Swedes to take that one point. A force of one point wasn't terrible when your opponent had the hammer, especially when no one had scored a point yet.

Instead, the roll after the bounce carried the Swedish shooter out of the button. It slid to a stop in a position that the four of them all found themselves questioning. Because the red rock and the yellow rock looked to be almost perfectly at the same distance from the pin at the center of the button.

Chuck knelt down to look a bit closer, then stood again and peered down from above. "I really cannot tell. What do you think?" he asked Carina as she did exactly the same thing he'd done. Oscar leaned in then, and finally Sarah.

"Achht. I dunno," Oscar said, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he gestured over to the official for it to be measured.

It took a few moments, but after the measurement was complete, the official gestured to the red rock.

They'd stolen a point.

Team U.S.A. had stolen a point.

Chuck was careful not to react too much, instead prepping for the next End. But he thought between his general idea to interrupt Sweden's usual game plan, and Sarah's unrivaled ability to execute a beautiful game plan of her own, they just might pull this off.

And a little over an hour later, when the eighth End came to a close, Carina and Oscar walked over to concede the game. They sat at three points to Chuck and Sarah's nine. Sarah signed the paperwork for their win and strolled over to Chuck shaking her head, her face lighting up. They gave one another a two handed high five and followed Carina and Oscar off of the ice and into the tunnel.

"Is your game at eight tonight?" Carina asked over her shoulder.

"Yep."

"Good. Meet us at that bar just outside of the Olympic village. Oscar, what's it called?"

"I don't know. It is Korean and I don't know Korean. But the white tiger in neon lights…ahhh…you know, on the sign. Right outside the village entrance on the south side. It's, uh…a big one." He pulled his hands out wide.

Chuck turned to look at Sarah, but he couldn't read her, so he made the decision for them both. "We'll be there. I don't know when, exactly.""We don't, either," Carina chirped. "And, uh, make sure the shirt you wear is a little tighter than this clunky thing, huh?" She gave his shirt a teasing tug and laughed when he paled. "I'm kidding. You Americans need to lighten up."

Chuck gave Sarah a wide-eyed look and she giggled. "I can't control her. Sorry."

"Nobody can. You'd be fool to try," Oscar said.

Hours passed, and another curling match passed as well, with Chuck and Sarah inching out the Swiss team by seven points to five in eight Ends. And by the time they showered and changed into their non-curling get-up, Chuck was beat.

So beat, in fact, that he fell asleep while Sarah was in the shower, his feet flat on the ground, his thighs, torso, and head lying on the mattress of his bed. He felt her lips against his before he heard her even come into the room, and when she slowly pulled back, giving him a few warm pecks on the side of his mouth before one last long kiss, he groaned quietly.

"I didn't even hear you come in here, you stealthy super spy curler." And then he gasped and craned his neck to look at her, draped over him as she was, her body hovering tantalizingly over his. All he had to do was give her a quick tug and her full weight would be on top of him and they could forget about that bar with the neon tiger or whatever. "Stealthy. Super spy. Curler. That's it!"

She furrowed her brow in question. "What's it?"

"I knew you were too good to be true. This whole thing is a ruse." She looked even more confused. "A spy agency sent you here undercover as a brilliant curler to infiltrate the Olympics and catch any Russian Olympians who slipped through the cracks with that whole doping investigation."

"Oh, God." She giggled and rolled her eyes.

"You're a spy, Sarah Walker." He paused dramatically. "If that's even your real name."

"You got me." Then she slowly lowered her weight on top of him and his body woke up immediately. "You weren't part of the mission, Chuck. But you have to know, if you tell anyone about my true identity, I'll have to kill you."

Chuck pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, and then he whimpered softly. "There's something wrong with me, definitely, because that was probably the hottest thing a woman's ever said to me."

She barked out a laugh and rolled off of him.

When they got to the bar, Carina and Oscar were already there, having gotten a table in the quieter section of the establishment. They also had two large mugs of beer they'd already ordered for them.

"I thought this was supposed to be on us," Chuck said. "I mean, we _did_ win, and them's the rules."

The Swedes exchanged glances, and then glared teasingly. Oscar spoke up. "We started a tab under 'Dumb American'. Next drink you get, you give them your card for the tab."

Chuck and Sarah both laughed.

He noticed Sarah glance down at her beer a little funny then and leaned in. "What?"

"Oh, don't worry, Walker. I brought it here myself and I watched it the few minutes before you arrived." Carina winked, but there was a bit of a seriousness to her gorgeous features at the same time.

He turned and gave his partner a questioning look.

"Carina and I go way back," she explained. "To before I was even on the team. We competed against each other one time and she bought me my drinks that night—"

"I destroyed her."

"You won by one point, you liar!"

"Two!"

"One! Ugh! I'm not even arguing with you about it." She rolled her eyes and turned back to Chuck and Oscar. "Anyway, we clicked. Every bonspiel we happened to both be at ever since then, we get together."

"But that first time was when someone slipped something in Walker's drink when she wasn't looking." Chuck immediately sat up straighter, feeling a rush of protective anger. It surprised him how intense and sudden it was. "She was a goner. Thank God I was there and I could take her back to my hotel room. She couldn't even tell me where hers was she was so bad off."

Sarah shook her head and put a hand to her brow. "That was so terrible. I couldn't see straight or even form words. I thought I was going to die."

"Usual thing when someone is slipped a mickey," Carina explained, bouncing her shoulder.

"Well, I've never been drugged before so…"

"Or since, I hope?" Oscar asked.

"Or since. Thankfully. But she watched over me all night."

"What?!" the other man exclaimed. "I mean, not that my partner isn't a good girl—you're a good girl, Miller—but what a sweetheart, no? Watching over her? Awww, Millerrrr…"

He nearly got shoved right off of his stool.

Chuck laughed outwardly, but he felt the need to… Well, he didn't know. It scared him to think of Sarah in a situation like that. It sounded like she'd been much younger then, maybe more trusting than she was now. To think someone had tried something like that…

Knowing it probably wasn't the smartest idea, but feeling the need to do it anyway, he slipped his hand under the table and gently draped it over Sarah's knee, squeezing comfortingly.

Her hand fell on top of his and she squeezed back, neither of them looking at one another.

"So! The apartments! Much fancier than I expected them to be, yeah?" Oscar asked then, changing the subject. They all agreed. "We can go around and say our favorite thing, like a game. I go first. The microwave."

They all chuckled.

"What can I say? I like to eat."

Carina answered next. "Ugh, the shower. The jet on that thing is better than sex."

"Is it, though?" Sarah asked, making a dubious face.

"I mean…no. It's just a figure of speech, Walker!"

They laughed and Sarah went next.

"The fact that they let us personalize it so much is pretty cool. You know, the pillows with the US colors and stuff on the walls. Chuck?"

"Bed." Everyone turned to look at him and he realized that it sounded exactly the way he meant it. "Th-The bed. I mean, both of the beds. Well, my bed. I obviously don't know how…everyone else's bed feels." He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Heh. I mean, it's so comfortable. …For _sleeping_. I can't—I mean, I barely wanna get up in the mornin', it's so…comfy." _Shut up shut up shut up shut up._ "Sarah knows." _Oh God._ "I just mean, you know, she has to basically…force me…Since—You guys know we're roommates, right? Federation thing. We're forced. _Blegh._ " He cleared his throat. "But yeah, I really like the bed they gave me. Is the moral of that."

Sarah's jaw clenched as she gave him a long, flat look. And then she turned back to the other two. "Wow, Chuck. I guess you really like your bed, huh?" she joked.

They all laughed again and Carina and Oscar eventually moved away to the dance floor, Chuck and Sarah opting out…Chuck opting out mostly because Sarah had his hand in an almost painfully tight grip.

"Really?" she hissed at him.

"Sorry, I…I don't know what happened. I'm very tired. I really am."

"Chuck, you can't let stuff slip like that. I don't think their minds are gonna go where mine _immediately_ did, not even Carina who has a tendency to be a bit of a horndog. But you can't be awkward like that in front of people, even if it _is_ kinda cute."

He did a double take. "You thought that was cute?"

"Chuck!"

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I've never been—I mean, I've never had a relationship type thing with someone and had to keep it a secret from people. I get why, even if I do wanna get up on this table and tell everyone that you somehow find me attractive." Her flat look didn't have the desired effect, though, because he could see the way she bit her cheek to keep from smiling and knew she was charmed by what he said. "I'm having a hard time maybe, but I'll…I'll get there."

Sarah arched an eyebrow and leaned in close.

"Will it help if I stop letting you touch me?"

A shameful amount of desperation went through him and he shook his head, clearing his throat.

"That's—That feels…unnecessary. We don't hafta do that I don't think."

Amused, she twisted her lips to the side a bit and met his gaze squarely. "Good. Do better. Or Twitter's only gonna get worse for you."

He let out a long breath of air and nodded. There was comfortable silence between them for a bit, and then he turned to face her. "So I still get to touch you then, right?"


	9. Chapter 9

For the second time in just a few days, Sarah Walker was jarred awake by a loud banging on her door. She groaned, shifting against Chuck's body to cuddle even tighter, burying her face under his chin.

There was yet another banging then and her eyes snapped open. "Chuck?"

"Mmm?"

"What time were we meeting with Becks in the morning?"

"Have I told you how ridiculously attractive it is that you also call her Becks now?"

Banging again.

"Chuck."

She felt his body tense. "Eight."

"What time is it?"

He moved to look at his watch he'd fallen asleep wearing. "It's fifteen minutes after eight."

"We're so fucked."

They both bound out of the bed, Chuck getting a bit tangled in her sheets and pitching over. He caught himself against the nightstand before he could face plant into the floor and scrambled over to his own bed, messing the sheets up, punching the pillow, even climbing into it and squirming around a bunch to make it look slept in.

She would've laughed if she wasn't so busy stepping into sweatpants and flinging a jacket on over her shirt, smoothing her hair down and rushing into the other room to let their coach into the apartment.

Glancing over her shoulder, she hissed, "Put some clothes on!" and rushed out into the main room, flinging the door open. "Good morning! Uh…"

"You slept in. I know." The small but mighty woman strode past her into the apartment, briefcase under her arm. "That's neither here nor there. You have two must-win matches today, and with the way the rest of the teams are stacking up with their records, we very well could make it into the semifinals."

"Oh." What Beckman said finally settled in her sleep-addled brain. "Oh! Let me see."

The coach opened the briefcase and slapped the notepad with her notes scribbled over it onto the nearby table. Sarah grabbed it and peered at it. "So seven games played, we're at four wins and three losses. Canada is seven for seven on wins, big surprise. We're tied with China right now. Looks like South Korea and Norway are in already."

"And Denmark. And Russia."

"The Olympic Athletes from Russia," Chuck chimed in as he walked into the room, his hair damp from apparently jumping in the shower really quick…either to wake himself up or to make it seem like they hadn't slept together again the night before, she didn't know.

Suffice to say, her threat about not letting him touch her again was an empty one. And they'd both known it. And she'd proven it once again last night. It was…sort of becoming a nightly thing with them, it seemed.

"Whatever. The point is that there are seven teams jostling for four semifinal spots right now. Well, six teams jostling for three spots. Canada's pretty much locked in," the redheaded curling coach said.

"Of course they are," Sarah muttered.

"Here's the thing. If you lose even one of your games today, I just don't think it will be enough to nab one of those semifinal berths. Norway and South Korea have more wins than we do, so even if you win both, there's a chance you might not make it in."

"What a tournament," Chuck said, shaking his head.

"So we win," she added, meeting her partner's eyes over Beckman's head. "Or our Olympic debut is over."

"Guess we better win then."

She smiled a little at how easy he made it sound.

"Well, I have a proposal," their coach said, and she was smiling a little herself. "Your first match doesn't start until two. Maybe it might do us all some good to get out of this village, away from curling, and out to watch an event. I ran into your little friend…the, uh, strange one. Is his name Martin? Mason? Miguel?" She paused. "Mario?"

"Morgan, actually…But I'm sure he'd be incredibly stoked if you called him Mario."

She made a confused face at Chuck but then probably didn't care to further explore that as she shook her head. "Anyway, Morgan handed me this stack of tickets for all of us to watch, uh, whatever his event is." She fished in her jacket pocket and pulled them out. "What does he even do besides what I see him do, which is walking around slapping people on the back and saying 'My man!' and going like this." She wiggled her fist back and forth with her pinky and thumb out.

"That's called hanging ten, Coach. It's—"

"I don't care. We have tickets for the event in two hours. We're doing it." She smacked the tickets into Chuck's palm as Sarah tried hard not to laugh. Then she snagged one of them for herself. "See if any of the others want to join. I'm hungry and I want one of those free McDonald's breakfast croissant things."

She was gone just as quickly, leaving Sarah and Chuck standing there staring at one another.

"Did…she just give us the morning off?" she asked him haltingly.

"I…think she did?" He frowned in confusion. "I think maybe Morgan might have…charmed her."

"I could kiss that beard right now, honestly."

"Well, maybe don't do that," Chuck said quickly. "He thinks you're super hot and he doesn't know about…us. And that's not going to go well."

She snorted even as she thought about Lou. "Don't I know it," she snarked. Then she paused and gave him a teasingly offended look. "Hey, wait. If he thinks I'm super hot and he doesn't know about us, why hasn't he hit on me yet like that bobsled guy and…" She rolled her eyes. "Others."

"Others? There are other—That's not important." He cleared his throat. "Morgan isn't going to hit on you, Sarah. Middle school and high school combined forces to make sure he would know his limitations for the rest of his life."

"Ah. Bullies are good at that." She widened her eyes and pressed her lips together.

"Why, do you _want_ to be hit on by Morgan? I have to say, I've seen him do it and…" He winced with a hiss. "…it ain't pretty. I mean, I'd give him lessons—being the artist that I am," he said, waving his hand with a flourish, "but it's really not something you can learn, you know? It's a talent that comes from deep within."

She laughed and grabbed one of the pillows from the couch, throwing it at him. He squeaked and barely dodged it, laughing with her. "You aren't as great as you think," she flirted, hands on her hips.

"Hooow dare you? I think you should ask the Sarah I was with last night."

Gasping, she grabbed another pillow and threatened to throw that one too, just barely holding back a laugh. "Cheeky! Anyway, having sex is not the same as hitting on someone. It might be the result, but they are not the same thing."

"You've got a point there. If you want, I can get all beefed up like a bobsledder and wax poetic about how fancy the hot cocoa is in Paris," he said, rolling his eyes.

Sarah gaped for a moment, dropping the pillow on the couch and closing the distance between them. "Hey, wait a second. Could you hear that whole conversation? Were you listening?"

"W-No. I just…Maybe. So what! I was just—Because Morgan was—" He sighed and then chuckled, shaking his head at himself and crossing his arms at his chest. She spotted the blush on his face and she felt warmth flood through her. "There's no possible way for me to come out of this without looking like a jealous moron, is there?"

"Jealous? Yeah. Moron? Not at all."

It did make her feel good, she had to admit. Even if he was a little foolish to have been jealous of Cole Barker. From afar, the man seemed like a prize, but up close, he was just another man who used his accent and braggadocio to impress women. She imagined getting to know him better would've left her even less impressed than she'd already been.

"He's a bobsledder. They push bobsleds that are like five hundred pounds. That's some Hulk shit right there. And the guy was pretty smooth. I think the disconnect here is that men see each other way differently than women see men."

"Yeah, I saw a braggart with his head up his own ass and you saw some James Bond bobsled superhero, so I'd say there's a disconnect. But as long as that disconnect doesn't happen against Norway or Denmark, I think I'm okay with it." She sidled up to him and pressed her chest against his then, reaching up to fix a damp curl that was sticking out. "And as long as you stop comparing yourself to men like Cole Barker and Bryce Larkin."

Chuck winced and blushed again. "Sorry. That is a bad habit. I'll try to check myself."

"Good."

She purposely threw a look over her shoulder as she sashayed into the other room to take a shower.

There was no doubt in her mind that cameras would be at the halfpipe qualifying event, and if she was about to be on television in a non-curling situation, she was going to look good, damn it.

-oooo-

It was cold and blustery, and not even doubling up on the scarves was helping to stave it off. He wanted some hot cocoa— _not_ Parisian hot cocoa—and a foot warmer and something that might protect his face from the bitingly frigid air.

But he didn't whine or complain about it. He'd felt worse cold in Wisconsin after he moved there for the U.S. curling team. It also helped that his best friend was a few snowboarders away from his first qualifying run in the PyeongChang Olympics. It was going to be a long couple of hours, but he'd handle it for Morgan.

And Sarah was here, bouncing up and down to keep warm, hugging herself, blowing into her cupped hands. Cameras were everywhere, fans from all walks of life, from many different countries, and probably people who might know who they were…or at least, who Sarah was. So he couldn't sling an arm around her or rub her arms to keep her warm. That was a bummer.

Everything else was good, though. Coach Beckman just had to look sideways at a few people and she got them up to the gate, as close as spectators of the event could get to the actual event.

The snowboarder currently doing his first run, a nineteen year old from Austria, sat down on his last trick to a loud sympathetic groan from everyone around them watching. Chuck winced, but he was used to seeing things like this, considering how many of Morgan's events he'd been to in the last decade just about.

Sarah pressed her face up close to his, then. "When is Morgan supposed to come down?"

"Uh, I've lost count honestly." Then he glanced over his shoulder at the small group of fans with large cardboard Morgan Grimes heads and signs that said "THE BEARD FLIES AGAIN!" and "GO, FLYING BEARD!"

"They'll know," he said, nudging her. "Hey, 'scuse me! Do you know how many guys there are before Morgan Grimes go—"

"Six!" one of the girls said, cutting him off excitedly. "Six more!"

"Thanks." He turned back to his wide-eyed partner. "Yeah, I know. He's got a fan club. The guy really does fly, though. You'll see. Nobody gets the height he does. Nobody in the whole world."

"Helps to be tiny, I guess."

"He isn't tiny! He's perfect-sized!" one of the girls in the Beard Fan Club barked.

Sarah jumped and muttered a quiet, "Sorry" before turning back and giving Chuck a _woops_ face. He just laughed, rocking forward, patting her shoulder.

Then she pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Hey, um, our agent is calling me."

"Zondra?" he asked. Sarah had handpicked Zondra Rizzo as their agent with the federation's approval. Chuck had no idea what went into her decision, if there was history there, if she'd worked with her before. But he'd agreed when Sarah came to him with Zondra Rizzo's name because he trusted her. She was the one who'd done all of this promotional junk before, after all.

He'd only met his new agent once and she'd seemed not to be a big talker. The first thing she did was raise an eyebrow and run her eyes down to his feet and back up again, shake his hand, and smile a bit. It was one of those polite smiles. And then it was right into business. It had been a little unnerving.

"Yeah. Um…" She lifted the phone to her ear. "Zondra, hi. Just a sec, we're in a crowd." She pulled the phone away and reached out as though she was going to grab his hand and lead him out of the crowd with her, but then she stopped herself and tilted her head for him to follow instead.

Apparently, she was also aware of the fact that they were in public and had to minimize the touching, even the smallest and most subtle things, for fear someone could read into it as affection that extended past just a partnership.

"Zondra's calling us," he said to Beckman, having to lean down a bit. "We'll be back." She just nodded, letting out a "oooooo!" as another snowboarder fell on their trick.

Chuck then followed Sarah out of the crowd and stood close by as she lifted the phone to her ear again. "Okay, sorry. What's up?"

She listened for a while and he watched her face closely. It went from curiosity to confusion, and then her brow furrowed a bit as though she was…upset? "I don't want to do that."

_Uh oh._

"Yeah, I know. But you know me better than that, Z." There was another pause as she listened. Then, "Right, but Bryce Larkin isn't my partner anymore. Do they know that? Did you explain that to them? That you aren't just _my_ agent, you're _Chuck's_ agent, too? Because my partner's name is Chuck Bartowski." She listened. "Good."

Sarah lifted her gaze to him and gave him a flat look as he tilted his head in question.

"I appreciate you bringing it to me anyway." After a few more seconds, his partner blushed suddenly, looked into his eyes and looked away again, reaching up to play with the little fuzz ball that hung from the ear of her beanie. "That's not—That's not what this is. But hey, guess what, he's standing right here so did you want me to put it on speaker, or…?" She wouldn't meet his eye now. "Well, if any offers come in…Yeah, I know. And I do want sponsorships, of course, and it's great they're interested before the semis even, I just…You get it." Pause. "Okay, thanks. Yeah, let us know. Thanks, Zondra."

She hung up and shoved her phone in her pocket, then looked up at him a bit sheepishly. "Hi."

"What happened?" he asked tentatively.

Fixing her hat, her coat, scratching the back of her neck, doing virtually anything else but answering his question, she finally took a deep breath and frowned. "That was Zondra."

"Yes, I gathered. What'd she say? Something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, no." She turned and watched as the crowd erupted. Somebody must've put up a high score, but he didn't care that much, keeping his eyes on Sarah. She turned back to him and sighed. "The federation passed along Zondra's contact info to Lumba—you know, the company that make running shoes—and they want to do a photoshoot here in PyeongChang with a few athletes, a sponsorship deal."

"That's pretty cool!" But he'd been listening to the conversation and even though he'd only heard one side of it, he thought he might get the gist now.

"Yeah, but they talked to Zondra specifically about me. She didn't think I'd take it but she wanted to call to make sure."

"Ah." He squinted out at the competition, watching the Japanese snowboarder make his way down the halfpipe. Sarah's searching gaze was planted on his face. He could feel it and he tried not to let any disappointment show. "It makes sense. You're the face of the sport back home." He turned his gaze to her and smiled warmly.

"Yeah, I know. But I don't curl alone. There are two people on a mixed doubles team."

"But you're the prettier one. And people know you." Realization settled over him then and he frowned. "Wait, you said no?"

"I said no. I don't want to sign up for any sponsorships by myself. I did that when Bryce and I were together—I mean, when we were teammates—but he had more sponsorships of his own, and that was just how it was. But the federation set us up as a packaged deal, you and me. We are _the_ mixed doubles team representing the U.S. and we've got one agent looking out for the both of us. I'm not taking sponsorships that don't include you."

He gave her a crooked grin and she frowned. "What?" she asked.

"Sarah, that's sweet. Honestly, I'm heart-warmed." She blushed and he was even more heart-warmed. "But they're offering you a contract to take pictures wearing their shoes during the Olympics, which means you're making money to curl. I shouldn't factor into your decision. I'm not upset about it. I totally get it." He shrugged.

"I know. I didn't make this decision because I think it'll hurt your feelings or something. I know you're not like that." He could see a bit of a longing on her face as she looked at his chest, like maybe she wanted to reach out and touch him and God, he understood the urge and he wished they were alone and not with all of these people. "I'm doing it because I'm serious about this. I don't want this to just be an Olympics thing. Us as a team, I mean. The, um, the other thing," she lowered her voice for that and stepped a little closer, "I'm not talking about that just now. I mean, not at the moment. Later."

"Yeah. Right." He nodded vigorously. "Later. Makes sense." His throat felt tight.

"I don't know if Bryce and I having a bunch of separate sponsors is part of what made it hard for us to…jive…even though we were together romantically."

Chuck nodded slowly and stuck a finger up under his beanie at the back of his head to scratch an itch there. "Oh. Yeah. But…God, I hope I'm not out of line saying this, but maybe it isn't…er, _good_ …to be basing what you do now off of what went wrong with you and Bryce." He winced. "Sorry, it's just…Not wanting to take a sponsorship for yourself because that was what you did when Bryce was your partner, and your team slash relationship went south. I'm not…I'm not Bryce. Like we've established, I think. And you and I, we aren't you and Bryce. At least, that's what you said."

She raised her eyebrows, then nodded. "You're right. I guess I've sort of been making a habit of looking at things with Bryce as a sort of a guide of what not to do, and I'm maybe going a bit overboard."

Chuck shrugged.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'm not upset." He smiled again and then he studied her face. "But you're still not taking that shoe sponsorship offer, are you?"

She twisted her lips to the side and shook her head. "Nope. We're a team. That means we get team sponsors or none at all."

He nodded. "I respect that. I'm just saying, if you wanted to…But you don't. So I'm gonna stop. Just want to be clear, that's all." Then he paused. He heard her say something like "That's not what this is" while she was talking to Zondra, and it made him wonder what, exactly their agent had insinuated. But he thought maybe it would be best if he didn't ask that question. Instead, he cleared his throat and gestured back to the group. They ambled back, slowly weaving through the crowd to get up where Beckman was. "Uh, I feel like she doesn't like me very much."

"Who, Zondra?"

"Yeah."

"She doesn't like a lot of people, which is funny, since she's an agent, and talking with people is all she does pretty much all day long." She snorted. "But that's just how she comes off, really. I'm sure you aren't one of them."

"One of the many people she doesn't like?" He chuckled. "I might be."

"You aren't. And if you're thinking that's why she called me with that offer that basically nixed you out of the deal, that's not—that isn't what she was doing."

He spun to look at her. "That wasn't what I was thinking." He could see the bit of defensiveness she'd had in her stance ease a bit as they finally stepped up next to Beckman. "No, I trust her. I really do. I might not know anything about her, or where she came from or her experience, yadda yadda, but I trust you and you trust her and that's more than enough for me." He held his hands up in surrender and she smirked, nodding, maybe even looking a bit contrite. He subtly put a hand under her elbow and squeezed, then tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat again.

"Anyway, once she gets to know you better, you won't have to worry about it. She's gonna like you a lot. That's what you do to people."

"Charm their pants off, huh?"

She sent him a warning look. He was confused for a half second, and then he realized how that sounded. "Oh! No, I really didn't mean— _ahem!_ " He stopped when she elbowed him.

"Up next, we've got Morgan Grimes from the United States of America!" the surfer-esque male voice announced over the loudspeaker. Chuck was half excitement and half nerves, so much so that he forgot everything else and reached out to grab at Beckman and Sarah on either side of him.

"Oh my God! Here we go! Here we gooo!"

Chuck could see Morgan way up top, in his favorite dark brown pants and a Team U.S.A. navy blue jacket. And the black helmet with a spray-painted silhouette of his beard on the top of it. Morgan had gone on and on about it when his sponsor had presented it to him before the Olympics. With one last adjustment of his goggles, he drifted down to his starting point, gave both his thighs a quick smack with his gloved hands, and was off.

No matter how much Chuck went to these events, no matter how many hours he'd spent around Morgan and his snowboarding friends, no matter how many conversations he'd been a part of when the technical snowboard lingo was used, he'd never understand anything about these tricks.

So when Morgan flew up the wall of the halfpipe and soared dozens of feet into the air, spinning, churning, grabbing his board, and swiveling around to land on the wall cleanly again, Chuck had no damn clue what he'd done, but the Flying Beard landed it without falling, so he let up a loud cheer and put his hands on top of his head, holding his breath as he watched his friend go into another trick. God, the height this guy could get. It was phenomenal. All he had to do was grab his board and land it cleanly and Chuck knew it'd get him major points. Morgan landed another trick. And another. And a few more. And as he surged into the air on his last trick, flipping and spinning like an absolute madman, Chuck let out a loud roar when he watched the Flying Beard stomp the landing.

"THAT'S MY BEST BUDDY!" he yelled, one hand on top of his head, the other pointing. "THAT'S MY GUY! THE CHEWIE TO MY HAN! WOOOO!"

Even Beckman was clapping with her hands up above her head, giving Morgan resounding applause. The announcer piped up then, "Did you SEE THAT, folks?! The Flying Beard is laying down the law up here! Oh, wowwwww!"

The guy kept rambling, but Chuck wasn't listening to what he was saying because Morgan slid to a stop where the athletes were supposed to wait for their scores and popped his helmet off. He turned and pointed to his fans, the giant Morgan head and Flying Beard signs bouncing as they screamed at him. And then he followed the line of the crowd until he saw Beckman, Chuck, and Sarah huddled up against the barrier.

"Ayyyyyy!" He pointed to Chuck and let out a wookie cry, making Chuck laugh.

They waited, and waited, and waited…

"Judges taking their sweet-ass time," Beckman muttered grumpily, and Chuck bit his cheek to keep from laughing as Sarah gave him a highly amused look.

The score finally posted…

"OH! A NINETY-FOUR POINT SEVEN FIVE!" the announcer yelled.

Even Morgan looked overwhelmed.

He finally unbuckled himself from his board, stepped off of it, and hoisted it under his arm to slump through the snow. Chuck wrestled through the crowd with Sarah and Beckman in tow and finally got over to where Morgan was walking by. They hugged over the barrier.

"Morgs! Buddy! That was fuggin' majestic!"

"Bruh, I flew!"

"The beard flew!"

They hugged again and Chuck thumped him on the shoulder a few times. Then Beckman shoved him out of the way and grabbed Morgan's arm. "Does this mean you've qualified?"

"Uh…" He blinked, the vibrant grin on his face dimming and looking a little like fear all of a sudden. "W—Uh. I've got another run. Probably in about an hour, once everyone else cycles through again. But, for now I'm sittin' mighty pretty. Still three other guys that need to make their first run. But I should be through, yeah."

"He's sitting in first position," Sarah said. And then she reached over to pull Morgan in for a hug. "Freaking amazing, dude. Good job!"

He was blushing and grinning as he thanked her, and then he ducked away to go back up and prep for his second qualifying run.

The next hour went by pretty quickly, but the qualifying became intense, with people starting to get scores like ninety-five, ninety-six. Morgan sat in the third position by the time he stood at the top, ready to make his last qualifying run.

"He's through, though, right? He's in the finals?" Sarah asked nervously, her hand clinging to his sleeve.

"Oh, yeah. He's definitely in the finals. But I know Morgan. He's gonna want that first spot. If you qualify in first place, you get to go last in the finals and that's a huge advantage."

"Why?"

"Everyone finishes before you and you can gauge just how big you gotta go to win."

She nodded, then gasped as Morgan started his second qualifying run.

"C'mon, buddy," Chuck muttered under his breath. "C'mon, c'mon."

Morgan stuck the landing on his first trick. "Yessss!"

Then he stuck the second.

The third.

Fourth…

And finally he went into his fifth trick.

"One more! C'mon, Morgs…put it down…put it down…YES! YES, HE DID IT!" He didn't care about the cameras, he caught Sarah when she jumped into his arms and he squeezed her with all the might he was capable of.

Sarah was practically screaming in his ear and he dealt with it if only to share this moment of celebration. Per usual, she came to her senses first and pulled away, her grin lighting up the entire venue as she reached over and yanked their coach into the embrace.

They didn't have to wait as long for Morgan's score.

With a ninety-eight point two five he was going into the final round with the highest score he'd ever gotten in his life.

A snowboard enthusiast Chuck had never seen before literally started crying behind them, sinking down to his knees and covering his face. "This is just the qualifiers!" he cried out. "This is the best day of my liiiiiife!"

They were all laughing as they stepped around the happy man, rushing over to meet Morgan and hugging him again.

The Flying Beard had a slew of sports reporters asking for on-camera interviews after his insane run, and Beckman looked to be getting a bit antsy, so they headed out soon after. It was so freezing that Chuck didn't feel like it'd even be healthy to linger much longer, and they all climbed into the bus heading back to the Village.

-oooo-

Her eyes slipped shut, using the short bout of silence in the prep room to center herself, meditate even. This was a must-win game if they wanted to proceed into the semifinals. She felt a hand slip into hers and when she opened her eyes, Chuck was standing in front of her, looking at her with so much earnestness that she almost felt a bit weak.

"Ready to kill it?" he asked with a bit of a smirk, his voice low as he lifted their hands between them at chest level and held on in something of a handshake.

She squeezed. "Ready to slay. Also, just for the record, I seriously wish I could kiss you right now."

Chuck bit his bottom lip, narrowed his eyes, and wrinkled his nose, making an aching little whimper. "I appreciate that sentiment and agree more than is probably proper being that I am a gentleman." She giggled through her nose, beaming. "We get through today with two wins and you can do whatever you want with me." Her entire body absolutely buzzed at that, but then he tilted his head and made a face. "I mean, honestly, no matter what happens with these two games, you can still do whatever you want with me. But you get it."

Sarah laughed and pulled back, shaking her head and tucking a few stray strands of her blond hair into her braid. There was a lot at stake this afternoon, and again tonight. If they didn't win, they were looking at a quick exit from the tournament. But Chuck had basically just told her he was still up for grabs later. So there was that, at least, even if they lost.

They walked out with the Norwegian team in front of them, and Sarah was careful not to look up at the people sitting in the stands. Jane had texted her a warning and told her to tell Chuck not to look, either. Sarah didn't know what the signs Jane warned her about said but she imagined whatever it was, it might throw her and/or Chuck off their game.

She peeked at him and saw that he was pointedly facing away from the crowd as they set up for the first End.

They forced Norway to only take one point in the first End then came out with guns blazing, picking up three points in the second End.

In the third, Norway got one back, and in the fourth, Chuck delivered a stone that got them another three, executing a perfect double takeout with the hammer. They went in at half with a lead of six points to Norway's two.

She ignored the couple as they huddled in the corner arguing with one another.

"Are they…together?" Chuck whispered near her ear, making her shiver.

"Engaged," Sarah responded, and she turned and met his gaze accidentally. They both looked away quickly and she rolled her eyes at the awkward exchange.

A few minutes later, they were called back out onto the ice for the second half. Aud Olsen walked out next to Sarah and in a low tone that only she could hear, the other woman said, "Sorry about the argument. We don't usually but you know…love and sport don't always mix well." She laughed and nudged Sarah with her elbow.

"Don't I know it," she breathed, sarcastically, because she and Bryce had played against Aud and Erik in a bonspiel not a year earlier, and if she remembered correctly, she hadn't won. But Aud had to know about the break-up, if for no other reason than that Sarah was now playing with a new partner.

"Just don't get engaged to him, and you'll be fine," Aud joked, gesturing to Chuck.

They were both laughing together as they walked out of the tunnel, but Sarah's was rather forced. Aud was just teasing about her own engagement to her partner Erik. Of course. But the warning got under her skin a bit.

_Love and sport don't always mix well._

Anyway, what an intense word: love. That was too intense. She needed to get her head in the game.

It was a hard fought game for both Team USA and Team Norway, with the crowd really getting into it around them. In the eighth End, Sarah finally stole a glance up at the stands and saw a sign with "Bartowsker" drawn inside of a giant heart. That must have been what Jane was trying to protect her against.

And while she didn't want either Chuck or herself to do anything to clue people in on their relationship under the partnership, the sign didn't actually bother her all that much.

They were leading eight points to six. Norway was making an epic comeback, and they needed to stop it now. Sarah had the hammer and she just had to make this takeout count for a point to end the game with a win.

The only problem was that she needed to bump three of Norway's rocks to get that point and end the game with a win.

Which was not easy.

"Where should I hit it?" she asked Chuck as they peered down at the rocks. She glanced up at the deliberation time they had and breathed a sigh of relief. They had plenty of time to figure this shot out. She turned her gaze back to him then. "I need your brain."

He was quiet for a moment, his tongue poking out between his lips a bit as he thought, and then he pushed a hand through his hair and huffed. "You're not gonna like this."

"Try me."

"A tap back."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You're kidding."

"This is the Olympics. Of course I'm not kidding." They exchanged a bit of a smile. "This guard here," he gestured to the guard he'd set up earlier on in the End, "is in perfect position for a raise. Hit it just to the side here, the guard rolls to bump this guy," he said, pointing his broom towards the Norwegian rock. "Your shooter rolls this way, smacks this lovely here…" He moved his broom over to the second Norwegian rock they were trying to take out. "And all we need is for it to bump this third rock just far enough…have the shooter stop somewhere in here."

That was insane. It was madness. She could just try to curl it around everything else to get it in counting position. But that would be a nearly impossible shot. And Team Norway currently had three rocks lying. They would win if she couldn't get it where she needed it.

But how much more ridiculous would they look if she did Chuck's suggestion and missed it?

Then again, what if she didn't miss it? It would be incredibly cool. And they would win on top of that.

"I'm seriously doing this," she said, shaking her head. "Last shot of the game, and I'm working a promotion to bump three counters and win it. Instead of playing it…" She paused for just a moment, meeting Chuck's gaze. "…safe."

_Screw safe_ , she thought to herself.

"You know what? I'm doing it."

"Yesssssssss!"

He got into position as she scooted back to the last rock of the game, and then she got into position at the hack and took off.

She needed to hit the guard at the right speed and power so that the angle would careen it into the Norwegian rock, but still have enough of a powerful roll to do the rest of its job in taking out two of their opponents' rocks.

She was up and following it, bent over with her broom at the ready.

"Line!" she heard Chuck call out. "Yes yes…Hard! Hard!"

She scrubbed the ice with her broom then and she didn't stop until Chuck let out a quick "Whoa!"

And when she stood up and slid over to her partner's side, she was so focused on what was happening with her shot that he had to reach out and hold onto her arm to keep her from slamming into his side.

Sarah didn't care, though, because her shot wasn't exactly perfect. The guard was sent into a Norway rock and did its job, but the shooter didn't get the second Norway rock on the nose like they'd wanted, so it knocked into the third Norway rock in the wrong place, and…

"C'mon c'mon," she heard Chuck breathe and then he let go of her and pounced, sweeping in front of the Norway rock to try to make it stop as far away from the button as possible. She watched him work, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

It was going to be close…

So close…

He did it.

They did it.

The audience behind them erupted.

By less than an inch, she thought Chuck had somehow gotten enough sweeping in to scoot that last rock just far enough away from Team U.S.A. to get that last point of the game.

She held her breath as the Norway team scurried over to look at it. Then they turned and came over to concede the match. After they shook hands, Sarah noticed the storm cloud look between the couple, but that was the last time she thought of what Aud had said in the tunnel, because Chuck went in for a quick high five and pulled her in for a one-armed hug.

"That was an insane shot, Sarah. _Insane._ "

"It was your idea," she said as they pulled back. She was breathless. They'd nearly let Norway creep back up on them. And instead, now, they won nine to six.

"Maybe it was my idea, but no other curler in the world could've actually executed that crazy shi—"

"Shitaki mushrooms!" she burst out, eyes wide. And Chuck laughed his ass off as they let the officials remove their mics. Sarah signed the paperwork and they filed into the tunnel. She only heard the tail end of the argument between the Norwegian couple, in their own language. That was one of the languages she hadn't learned in her travels, so she had no idea what they'd been saying but as the door to the hallway that led through to the exit slammed behind them, she thought it hadn't been anything good.

She turned to exchange a wince with Chuck, but they couldn't do much more than that because there were a few other teams in the room, preparing to go out and play their matches.

_Just one more game for the day_ , she had to keep repeating in her head as they changed their shoes.

They had to win this one last game, and then they only had to await their fate.

She had a lot invested in this. The federation had a lot invested in this. Beckman and Graham…Chuck. Everyone was counting on them to do well here. This was no longer a "Let's compete and see how we do" situation. She wanted this so bad. She wanted in on those semifinals. And she thought maybe with the concentrating look on Chuck's face, the hardness of his jaw, his furrowed brow, the tenseness of his shoulders, he was right there with her.

He usually was.

They had to stay focused.

They could do this.

-oooo-

They won.

They'd done it.

Chuck was surprised by how heavy the medal was as he stooped down to have it placed around his neck. He was grinning so hard his face hurt. Or maybe it was the cold. It didn't matter.

He stood up straight and slipped a hand under the medal, tilting it so that he could peer down and look at it. It was so shiny, so gold. Chuckling, trying to hold tears at bay, he turned to wave at the crowd watching his medal ceremony as his partner got her own medal.

This wasn't possible. This couldn't be real. He couldn't believe this was happening.

They'd won the gold medal for mixed doubles curling and the sponsorships would just pour in. Everyone would want to talk to them. The crowds would follow them everywhere.

He reached down and slipped his hand into hers, but it…felt different. He let go quickly, almost having forgot nobody was supposed to know about them being…together? Were they together? Did sleeping together a whole bunch mean they were _together_? They hadn't really qualified what it was they were doing and oh, the American anthem was playing. _Crap._

He put a hand over his heart, preparing to sing, and then he heard a voice beside him that…sounded…

Frowning a little, still mumbling the words to the anthem, he stole a peek at his side and saw…

_JILL?!_

He screamed and jumped away from her, as far away as possible, anywhere that wasn't next to her, and then he landed hard on something and there was a throbbing ache in his head and…

"Chuck? R'you okay?"

That voice already felt better.

"Chuck!"

He blinked a few times in the dark and looked up to see Sarah's concerned face peering down at him over the edge of the mattress.

"Oh my God…"

She scrambled out of the bed and knelt down next to him, wearing only her underwear and a bra. She must be really cold. As she put a hand under his head and tried to help him sit up, he stroked his own hand up her bare side. Her skin was so smooth. "You must be cold. You have no clothes on."

Sarah huffed, concern still written all over her face in the dark of the room. And then she reached up and turned on the lamp, illuminating their general area and he winced against the light as she cupped his face. "Yeah, well…oh wow, that's a bump."

"Ah!" he let out as he felt a stinging sensation when she pressed her fingers to the back of his head.

"Sorry," she breathed, moving her hands back to cup his jaw. "What happened?"

"Uh…you tell me."

"Are you dizzy?" she asked as though he hadn't even said anything. "How many of me are there?"

"You're one in seven point six billion, Sarah Walker," he muttered, smiling dreamily.

"That's sweet, Chuck, but you aren't exactly making me feel better here. Are you seeing double, I meant."

"Oh. No. I can see just fine. I see what you're doing here. I think I'm okay. I just maybe…I hit something on my way down."

She frowned deeply. "I know. I heard it happen. A bang right before the thump of you landing on the ground. We need to make sure you don't have a concussion or anything."

"No, I don't. Really. Just a little bit of a bump."

"Let's get you up."

She slung her arms underneath his and with both of them working together, he was standing in seconds. He didn't feel woozy or dizzy. He wasn't swaying. But that spot on his head did hurt. He reached back to feel it and winced again, but at least when he pulled his fingers away there wasn't any blood, he thought.

"That's gonna be a bump," he drawled in a flat voice.

"What happened?" she asked again.

"It was just a nightmare." The worst nightmare ever. The best dream morphed into the worst nightmare. He shivered and cringed unconsciously. "I guess I got scared enough that I rolled out of bed."

"You literally used both hands to push off of me and you flew right over the edge," she said, rubbing her hands over his biceps comfortingly. "Almost like you were trying to get away from me. It was a stark contrast to spooning." She raised her eyebrows and he knew she was trying to get a smile or a laugh from him. Maybe to set her at ease more than anything. He could see he'd scared her and he felt terrible.

He chuckled and reached over to cup her elbows. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to get away from you, it-it was someone else."

"Who was it? Must've been somebody pretty bad for you to have reacted like that."

"Uh…I don't really remember anymore. Weird how that happens." He'd just lied. He remembered. But he was so creeped out and even a little disgusted with himself that the pernicious woman from his past was still in his mind somewhere. He thought he'd expelled her from it altogether. _Gross._

He felt the bump and winced again. "Mannnn."

"I'm getting you ice," she said, and she pulled away again.

"Not like that, you aren't."

She looked over her shoulder at him as she moved across the room, and she laughed. "What, you think I'm going down to get ice in my underwear?" She snorted as she slipped into some sweatpants with Team U.S.A. printed on the seat of them, and then she shrugged a large sweatshirt over her bra. "I'm not doing that, for two reasons. One, it's fucking freezing literally _everywhere_ in this place, and two, I don't really like the idea of running around in a bra and undies where everyone else can see me. Weird, I know."

"It is cold," seemed to be the only way he could respond to that.

She snorted and went over to open the flap of his suitcase, grabbing a random sweatshirt from it and throwing it onto the bed they'd just vacated. "There. Put that on. I'll be right back." She stepped into furry boots and grabbed her badge and wallet. "Please don't lie down and try to go back to sleep or something. In case…you know, in case it is a concussion."

Then she turned and stared at her phone for a second, and finally went over to grab it.

Before she left the room, she strode over to him and put a hand on his bare chest, stroking his skin and making him shiver in a good way. And then she was gone. He listened for the sound of the door to their apartment shutting and he smiled a little to himself.

Then he frowned, going over to grab the sweatshirt that had landed on the end of the bed and quickly yanking it on. "It _is_ fucking cold," he breathed to no one in particular, and then he grabbed some proper pajamas and pulled them on over his boxer briefs that he'd fallen asleep in, just barely finding the energy to slip into them after the post-sex shower, before he draped himself around her like a warm blanket and dozed off.

Then the dreams started.

Well, that wasn't really a dream, was it? It was a terrible nightmare.

Why did brains have to be so cruel?

Out of all of the women he'd been with, and in spite of Morgan's teasing it really hadn't been all that many, his brain had picked the worst, most detrimental, poisonous one to insert in place of Sarah on that medal podium. What in the hell?Was that some sort of bad omen?

He huffed and shook his head.

They'd beaten Norway nine to six that afternoon, and then they'd absolutely smashed Denmark, with a ruthless ten to two win in seven Ends. By the end of the night, they ended up tied with China in the rankings and had to play them again at ten the next morning. Canada, South Korea, and Norway had already qualified. But they and the Chinese team had come away with the same record of six wins and three losses, and now they had to play a tie breaker to see who got that last semifinal spot.

If they won, they'd have to play Canada in the semifinal. _Shit._

One match at a time, as Sarah would say.

But now he'd woken them both up at one in the morning because of his shitty Jill nightmare, the _night before_ a tie breaker game to get them into the semis. _Shit again._

He slipped some socks onto his feet and ambled into the other room. Wasn't there some protocol for concussions? Like you weren't allowed to sleep or something? How would _that_ affect the match versus China the next morning? He'd be a wreck. Sarah couldn't handle all of that alone, with a partner whose lack of sleep had broken his brain.

Chuck Bartowski just stood in the middle of the apartment, staring at the back of the couch, his mind going through any number of terrible scenarios. He'd wreck the match tomorrow, they wouldn't make the semis, and the social media abuse would continue. He'd have to cancel his account, delete it, delete himself everywhere on the Internet. And who knew what sort of effect it would have on Sarah, on her career, her self-worth. He knew what Bryce did had already taken a chunk out of her confidence in herself.

He wandered over to the TV and turned it on, plopping down on the couch but sitting up straight just in case. There was an Olympic channel for the athletes to catch up on other events, he knew, so he switched it to that and immediately frowned.

It was a replay of their game against Denmark from earlier on that Chuck recognized Bryce's voice immediately.

"Well, Mike, the interesting thing about Sarah is that she tends to be distracted during games. She's brilliant, don't get me wrong. But so brilliant that—I mean, she'll see four or five different options for a shot in front of her, and it makes it hard for her to decide."

"Really?" his fellow commentator prompted.

"So I mean, you can see it all on her face…"

Sarah and Chuck were both standing at the house, looking down at the placement of the rocks. She muttered a quick, "If we take it around the guard, we can bury it."

"Yeah…but…"

"I love this, Mike. I love that we get the mics on these curlers. You can hear _everything_ ," Bryce said. "I mean, every word she says to him. See? Look at that. She's trying to decide."

"Maybe he'll have to make the decision."

"Exactly."

Chuck did exactly that, then. He told her to bury it, curl it around the guard and bury it behind the Denmark rock. And it validated everything Bryce had just said. He was furious, though, because that wasn't how Sarah curled _at all_. That wasn't how their partnership worked, either. He didn't _decide for her_. They collaborated. And she wasn't indecisive in the slightest. She just sought his input because they were a team. In that same exact match, she saved him from taking a risk that wasn't just unnecessary, it was cocky and foolish. He'd made the right play thanks to her guidance and he'd prevented what could have been a steal of three for Denmark. They discussed things. There was no hierarchy, no one decision maker.

He was pissed.

"Oh, nice shot from Sarah there."

"She really is the best at execution I've seen in the game," Bryce said. "I could always count on that once I gave her a path."

This was so horrible, so unprofessional, so patronizing. He wanted to turn it off.

He finally did a few minutes later, after hearing what Bryce had to say about him. It was just subtle enough that it didn't sound like he was digging on him, but Chuck heard the dig. Inexperience, shakiness…Chuck knew he was rash, more so than a lot of the more experienced, veteran curlers. But Sarah wasn't rash. She was experienced. She was a veteran curler, and he deferred to her experience.

On the one hand, Bryce Larkin was building his old teammates up as underdogs. That would probably get more Olympics viewers to root for them, which was good. On the other hand, Chuck didn't like the idea of being subtly crapped on. And he liked it even less when Sarah was the subject.

There was probably nothing that could be done about it at this point, and letting it get under his skin would only hurt, not help. So he shook it off.

The door opened behind him then and he was glad he'd turned off the TV before Sarah could see what he'd been watching. Like the nightmare, this was just another thing he would be keeping under his hat. Hopefully neither of them would have to be subjected to Bryce's commentary.

"I've got you some ice and, um, something else, too."

He was hoping for a cookie or a cupcake or something from the twenty-four hour market in the lobby of the building but when he turned he saw no cookie…no cupcake…

More of a beefcake, actually.


	10. Chapter 10

Sarah watched as Chuck spun around to face her from where he was sitting on the couch. There was a small smile on his face that immediately crumbled into confusion. "Wha—?"

His brother-in-law immediately held up his hands and started waving them around in the air in front of him, sticking up fingers, putting them down, then sticking up different fingers, purposely being confusing. "Okay, bro, how many fingers am I holding up?"

She followed him as he rounded the couch to sit on the coffee table in front of Chuck. His beaming grin dimmed a bit and he cleared his throat. "Sorry, uh…joke from my EMT days."

"What are you doing here?" Chuck asked, then.

"Well, you fell out of bed and took a hit to the head, little guy," Devon said, scooting closer and reaching around his brother-in-law to start feeling under his hair at the back of his head. "Oh boy, a little bit of a bump there, huh?"

"I'm twenty-seven years old, Awesome."

Devon cleared his throat and sobered up a bit. "Sorry. I'm still shaking off the sleep and my last few patients were kids."

Chuck seemed satisfied enough with what Devon told him so Sarah didn't feel it necessary to say more than just a simple, "I figured a professional should at least make sure you don't have a concussion."

"Oh. Makes sense."

What she didn't say was that she'd been on the verge of getting one of the actual medics from the medical building on the campus to come up and take a look at Chuck. She'd been that shaken up by what had happened. It was a combination of being woken up so suddenly and the sound of him falling, on top of seeing him sprawled on the floor looking pretty dazed for a bit there, unaware of his surroundings. She'd been legitimately terrified. Even when she got her heart to stop hammering against her chest, when she saw there wasn't blood everywhere, when she saw he was alert, and he was talking just fine and even able to stand up without swaying or seeming dizzy, she felt the need to make sure he didn't have a concussion. She knew what could happen if those went unheeded.

But then she'd stopped herself halfway out of the door of the building, seeing the flurry of snow outside. She had the sudden realization that the official medical personnel had to keep records, and they had to report situations like this to coaches, U.S. personnel, Olympic officials, et cetera.

Chuck wouldn't appreciate it if this got them disqualified or the tie breaker was cancelled and China given the last spot in the semis, or even if the tie breaker was postponed, or any number of things that might happen if officials found out that he'd injured his head in some way. And she didn't want any of that, either, after all of the work they'd put into getting this far.

She'd remembered then as she walked back into the lobby that Chuck had talked about how Ellie and Devon had met in medical school. She couldn't wake Ellie up and bring her all the way over here from where she and the other alpine skiers were staying outside of the Olympic Village. But she knew Devon was housed here with his cross-country teammates.

Silently thanking Ellie for making sure she put both of their numbers in her cell, Sarah pulled Devon's number up and she'd called him. She'd told him the situation and he'd said to meet him at his room with some ice. He'd emerged from his room, tiptoeing, with a small medical kit in hand, giving her a sleepy side hug and a chipper, "Take me to my clumsy patient."

Now here she was handing the cross-country skier slash doctor (maybe?) the bag of ice she'd retrieved from the market and he was feeling around the back of Chuck's head.

"That doesn't feel too bad. Usual bump ya get when you knock your noggin'. What'd you hit it on, the floor?"

"Uh, I think one of the handles on the nightstand next to the bed. Th-the drawer handle."

Sarah and Devon winced together and she felt a pang of sympathy. He looked so tired and embarrassed, she wanted to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder or run her fingers through his hair. She'd noticed he liked when she did that. The other night when they'd been watching TV together after their match, he'd put his head on her chest and she'd unconsciously reached up to feel his soft curls between her fingers; he'd made a soft humming sound in his chest. The grown human male equivalent of a purr, perhaps.

She kept her hands at her sides now.

"I'm gonna do a concussion check just to make sure, bro."

"Yup."

"Where are you right now?"

Chuck gave her a flat look that nearly made her burst into laughter it was so much like the one she'd seen on his sister's face a few times now. "I'm in my apartment in the Olympic Village in PyeongChang, South Korea."

"Well done! Tell me your full name, now."

"Charles Irving Bartowski."

"Irving, huh?" Sarah interrupted. "Interesting."

Chuck frowned a bit. "My dad was a big fan of nineteen-fifties B-movie horror flicks, especially the film scores—you know, the music. Irving Gertz did the score for my dad's favorite, _Curse of the Undead_."

She giggled a bit, and then she realized that was the first time he'd ever said anything about his parents, and she found herself wondering about his and Ellie's parents for the first time since she met him. "It doesn't surprise me that you're named after a B-movie horror flick's film composer."

"Just the middle name."

"Did you lose consciousness at all when you hit your head?" Devon cut in before she could continue the conversation.

"No, I don't think so…uh…" His brother-in-law had leaned in close, then gestured to the nearby lamp. Sarah went and turned it on for him and he smiled his thanks. "No, I didn't lose consciousness. Hitting my head is what woke me up."

"Good, good. I mean, not good that you hit your head, but good that you stayed conscious. Any headache or a feeling of pressure? Like something is squeezing your brain?"

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "No. Just the pain from the knot on my head back there."

"Are you dizzy? Woozy?"

"No."

"Any nausea?"

"Nope."

"Okay, I'm gonna just check your pupils."Devon got up and sat next to Chuck, going into the med kit he'd brought with him and pulling a little wand of some sort out of it, then he turned the tip and a light beamed out of it. He shined it in Chuck's eye, then switched to the other eye. Then he put the flashlight away, grabbed the ice and put it on Chuck's head. "Hold that. You don't have a concussion even though I feel a bit of a cut back there with the bruise. But if you keep icing it, you can at least get the swelling to go down a bit."

"This isn't gonna affect our match tomorrow, is it?" Chuck asked, his gaze following his sister's husband as the man stood up from the couch to his full height. "It's the tie breaker. We win that and we go to the semis. I'd really like to be able to do that."

"Nah, your brain is fine." He paused. "I mean, it's the same as it was before you hit your head, so maybe not _fine_ per se."

"Shut up, asshole," her partner chuckled, smacking Devon's shoulder with one of the pillows.

Devon laughed and came around the back of the couch, leaning over and checking the back of Chuck's head with his flashlight, then. "It doesn't seem like the skin is broken, but I felt something else back there and wanna check just in case. Sarah, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Can you get a washcloth and wet it with warm water? I just wanna clean back here to make sure there's no blood or anything."

"I don't think I'm bleeding," Chuck Sarah was already walking through their bedroom to the bathroom. She grabbed an unused cloth and turned on the water, having to wait a bit for it to warm up. She wet the cloth, wrung it out, wet it again, and wrung it out one last time, before turning off the water and walking back through to where she'd left Chuck and Devon.

"—So I get the gold medal around my neck, and I'm just, like, full of pride, right? And I turn to smile at Sarah, and it's not Sarah. It's _Jill_."

" _HER?_ Ewww, that's gross."

"Right? What the hell kind of fucked up sh—Oh, hi Sarah."

She'd since come around to hand Devon the cloth.

"Hi. Who's Jill?"

"Ummmmmmmmmmm. That's—I mean—Uh, she—Um."

Devon did a double take, then gaped down at Chuck, and gaped back up at her. "What? Seriously, bro? You haven't told Sarah about Jill?"

Chuck frowned darkly, but when he tried to turn his head to direct that frown at his brother-in-law, Devon caught his head in his fingers and forced him to stay facing straight ahead. "Remember how Ellie made me promise that I wouldn't go blabbing about Jill to people anymore?"

"Yeah, but c'mon, bro. That was just for girls you're dating. You and Sarah aren't dating!" He nudged the back of Chuck's shoulder and shared an amused look with Sarah.

Her mind was going in a million different directions. Obviously this was a woman Chuck had dated before, someone Chuck didn't like talking about apparently. But obviously it was a big deal at one time, if not still, considering his sister had to verbally make him promise not to talk about this Jill person. And then, of course, Devon's insistence about the rule only applying to women Chuck was dating. Nobody knew what she and Chuck had just been doing a few hours earlier. What kept happening. What they actively kept doing.

She felt bad for Chuck. The poor guy had a look on his face that clearly read, _Somebody please kill me now._

"She, like, tore Chuck's heart out of his chest and slammed it onto the ground and then basically hit it with a baseball bat over and over and over," Devon said, prodding at the back of Chuck's head with the cloth.

"Well, thank you for _that_ , Awesome."

"What? It's true. She's a rotten-souled pestilence that's been doused in crap and lit on fire. We're all agreed on that, but hey, it's been a few years now and you're totally over her." Devon shrugged, rolling his eyes to Sarah without Chuck knowing since the blond skier was still standing behind him.

Chuck looked up at her then, lifting a finger and gesturing over his shoulder at Devon. "That—What he says is true. For the record. That whole mess is done with. One hundred percent. It's a part of my life that's suuuper over." He cleared his throat, then, obviously not wanting to go too overboard with his brother-in-law in the room.

"I believe you," she said, and they exchanged a quick look. His lips spread into a slow, warm smile. It was sweet, how hard he was working to reassure her, but it wasn't necessary. Granted, if he was dreaming about this Jill woman, and if she apparently had that much of an effect on him, Sarah was pretty curious about her. She couldn't help it.

"Ah yeah, just a biiiit of blood, but it's dry. Means it's already stopped bleeding. Probably just a small cut. No biggie. I'm gonna rinse this real quick and finish cleaning you up and you should be good, bro," Devon said, and he pulled back to go through the bedroom and into the bathroom.

Sarah sat on the table in front of Chuck and glanced over to where Devon disappeared to. She waited for the sound of the sink running before she reached over and threaded her fingers with Chuck's. "How're you feeling?"

"Mortified."

She giggled, shaking her head. "Don't be. It's actually kinda reassuring to know I'm not the only one with a bit of baggage." She paused. "Your head, though. S'it okay?"

"Oh." He shrugged, then reached up to prod it and winced. "I mean, it hurts the way you'd imagine it might. But I'll survive."

"Yes, please. I don't know where I'm gonna get another partner by, like, eight hours from now." She stuck her tongue through her teeth and wrinkled her nose, earning a beautiful grin that felt like it lit up the whole room.

"Well, Bryce is in PyeongChang still."

She glared at him then, the nice moment basically murdered by his big mouth, and before he could backtrack the way she could tell he was about to, Devon marched back into the room.A few minutes later, he finally grabbed his med kit and moved to the door to leave. He was a little different. Tense, almost. Fidgety. Maybe he could feel the tension in the room when he came back in, or something.

They both thanked him profusely and Chuck apologized for his clumsiness waking him up in the middle of the night. Devon brushed him off, gave them a much too large grin, and half ran away.

She chalked it up to what she'd thought before and shut the door, not bothering to think anything more about it and instead turning to face Chuck with her hands on her hips. "As for you…"

Chuck winced. "I apologize so hard," he said immediately. "That was a stupid thing to say."

"Yes, it was."

"I shouldn't have made this a joint-ex-thing. You know, 'cause we were talking about _my_ ex and then I brought up yours and that was just dumb. I'm sorry." 

Sarah furrowed her brow. "Chuck…" She stepped in close, sliding her hands up his forearms and closing her fingers around his biceps just above his elbows. "I know your head is a little injured right now, but I really need you to get this through it: If Bryce had been beside me throughout this tournament instead of you, I am one hundred percent positive we never would've gotten this far. Okay? Actually _listen_ to me this time when I say this. If I was suddenly plunged into some alternate universe in which Bryce ended up replacing you for the tie breaker against China tomorrow, we would lose. I know it. Because I was there through all of the games we played together before he left the team, before he left me, and there is no way I could beat this Chinese team we're facing tomorrow with a weak-ass partner like Bryce Larkin. With you, Chuck, I know my Olympic debut is going to include getting into the semis. Because you're an amazing curler. You have an impressive mind for the game. But you also hear me and communicate. Am I being clear enough, or do you need anymore clarity?"

She didn't even let him answer, and instead she opted to just give him a bit more clarity anyway, just in case, reaching up to grab him by his face and pulling him into a hard kiss. He responded to it, immediately, his arms going around her. She ignored the cold of the ice in his hand seeping through her sweatshirt and smiled a little into his lips, then forgot herself and dragged a hand up into his hair.

He pulled back with a hiss and she let go of him. "Sorry!" she panted with a wince. "God, I'm sorry. You okay? I got a little…I mean, I forgot…""Nah, if anything that's really good for my self-esteem." He swallowed thickly and grinned a bit dreamily. "I mean, you forgetting yourself…"

She slid her hand into his and pulled him along with her to turn off the lights in the room. As they made their way back into the bedroom, she turned to eye him over her shoulder, feeling almost shy, or even a bit tentative, as she asked, "That knock to your self-esteem have anything to do with that dream about your ex?"

He groaned and she giggled. "Nightmare," he corrected. "And, uh…maybe."

The fact that he got quiet then made her think that teasing wasn't the way to approach this subject. She believed him when he said he was over her but Sarah still wondered just how bad it had been if he maybe wasn't over the situation.

She didn't ask any of the questions she wanted to, instead turning off the lamp on the nightstand and crawling into bed. He didn't follow for a moment and she gave him a questioning look.

"I, uh…You don't mind me getting back in there with you?"

God, he seemed so uncomplicated and simple sometimes, the way he operated, how he reacted to things, and then other times he was so complex and hard to predict and confusing. A few hours ago, he'd not only willingly jumped into bed with her, he'd sent her to new heights by touching her in ways no one else ever had before. And now, suddenly, he was bashful about getting back into this very same bed just to go to sleep.

"Just so long as you don't throw me out this time," she flirted and he laughed, accepting her invitation as she lifted the sheets for him.

They ended up on their sides, facing one another, and she reveled in the warmth he was providing on such a cold night. It was so cold, it seemed even the snow had stopped outside.

And even though she'd told herself she wouldn't keep bothering with this conversation, she did anyway, interrupting the comfortable silence. "What did she do to you?"

His brow furrowed for just a split second, as though he didn't know what she was referring to, and then he pressed his lips together and sighed, his eyes leaving hers as he looked away.

"You don't have to tell me," she said quickly. "It's okay." She smiled reassuringly. He really didn't have to if he didn't want to. They were partners, yes. They were roommates also. And then there was this physical magnetism that meant they kept falling into bed together. But none of that meant either of them were required to pour their souls out.

"It was a few years ago," he said haltingly. "It-I mean it isn't really…"

She could read him loud and clear. He didn't want to tell the story, and she needed to reassure him that she wasn't offended before things got awkward now. So she reached up to stroke her fingers down his cheek, her touch gentle and warm. "Really, Chuck. I mean it. Don't feel obligated to tell me. Please. Not if it's something you don't want to talk about right now. I get it, trust me." He gave her a small smile, his eyes soft as they peered into hers. "Listen, nobody would know about my situation if it hadn't been plastered all over sports media on and off for the last few months. Not something I really wanted everyone to know, to be honest."

He raised his eyebrows. "I don't know who _would_ want that."

She paused. "Bryce. He wouldn't be here making money right now if all that publicity hadn't happened."

"Well, he's an asshole," Chuck snapped, and she widened her eyes, biting her cheek to keep from showing too much amusement. "S-Sorry, that wasn't—You know what? It was. I do mean it. He's garbage. And I'm not just saying it out of jealousy. He's been a royal dick through all of this."

"Not _just_ out of jealousy?" She smirked a little and got that Bartowski flat look.

"I'm only human."

Sarah giggled, her ego properly stroked by his admission. And as she flipped over onto her other side to scoot back into his chest, she thought not for the first time about just how much she sincerely and earnestly liked this man.

She had almost drifted off to sleep when she heard him then, she didn't know how many minutes later.

His voice was so quiet, his breath fanning tendrils of her hair against her neck.

"We'd been dating since Sochi. Not that she was an Olympic athlete or anything; I met her when I got home. Anyway, I'll skip all the stuff in between, but after my accident in Switzerland, when I was recuperating in the hospital down in LA and doing my rehabilitation stuff, trying to get my legs back in working order and everything, she became more and more distant. I barely saw her. And then a friend of mine told me he and his girlfriend had seen her with some other guy at a club in West Hollywood. They confronted her and she was drunk enough that she spilled that this guy was a coworker of hers. I confronted her and she fessed up. She started cheating on me after the accident for no real reason, or so she said. But she broke up with me before I could do it and it's petty but that still pisses me off so bad." He huffed, nuzzling his nose against her neck.

Sarah had never known this kind of anger before. Even when everything with Bryce had happened, she hadn't felt like this. It was that searing white hot anger that just flooded you like you were standing in fire. She wanted to rip this Jill piece of shit's head right off of her shoulders.

Instead, she turned over to face him again, almost whipping her body around and seeming to surprise him with how quick it was. "She cheated on you while you were recuperating from a horrific accident? That's so insanely cruel."

"I know." He shrugged. "Some people can't fathom anything outside of their own wants and needs."

"That's putting it nicely. She's a selfish nutsack."

Chuck burst into laughter then, rolling onto his back, but then he winced a little and rolled back to his side. She giggled and reached over to gently cradle the back of his head in her hand. "Careful," she breathed.

"Selfifsh nutsack," he chuckled. "You're amazing. You know that? This is the first time I've been able to laugh about that whole situation in two and a half years."

"Right, but you're definitely over her."

She gave him a dubious look but he met her gaze squarely, steadily.

"I am over her. She was mean-spirited. She broke my heart. She cheated on me while I was trying to learn to walk on legs I'd broken in countless different places. Fuck her."

Sarah didn't say anything, just watching him. And she smiled a little when he sighed, almost a relenting sigh.

"It-It took some time, though. That was rough. I thought I had somebody at my side who'd support me, give me some much needed encouragement, prop me up. I mean, obviously I had Ellie and Devon and Morgan, and a few other close friends, but having someone who's your…I dunno, partner, I guess…the intimacy there…it's a different kind of support that I didn't realize I needed until I found out she cheated and she was out of my life."

She shook her head. "How do you do that to someone? I can't even imagine."

"Because you're not a selfish nutsack, Sarah." He grinned toothily and she chuckled, propping herself up a bit with her elbow on the pillow, head resting in her palm.

"I almost want to murder her, if I'm being totally honest."

"Awww, you would do that for me?"

The way he wrinkled his nose made her giggle happily. She could see in his face, in the lack of tension in his body, that he really was over this woman. And it made her feel better than winning those two Olympic curling matches earlier that day had. Though she was careful not to let that settle for too long, else things might take more of a serious turn than she was maybe ready for.

"I would. She'd deserve it."

He reached up to tug on the drawstring of her hood. "She isn't worth that kind of trouble. Let me tell you what Ellie said, 'cause she's a wise one, that sister o' mine." Sarah nodded in agreement. She thought perhaps Ellie was the wisest person she'd ever met, second maybe to Diane Beckman. "Well, first she said what you said, that she was gonna murder Jill. But with some grotesque details, you don't wanna know." She kind of did, but she supposed that might derail his point a bit. "But then she reeled it back a bit. And she said Jill isn't worth the effort of killing her. Better to just make her disappear completely. Out of sight, out of mind, out of everything. Stop giving her airtime, so to speak."

"This is wise," Sarah said with a smile.

"Yeah. That's my El for ya. I mean, of course, easier said than done. But I eventually got there. With some help."

"Oh yeah? What kind of help?"

Chuck gave her a long look, and then he slowly pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and he blushed, looking away. "Ah, curling, actually. Curling helped. You know, my mind was stuck on this woman who'd treated me like shit when I was going through one of the worst times of my life…It helped a lot when I found something else to stick my mind on. I put my entire brain into learning the sport, playing it, making friends in the local clubs and spending time with them, and it just…became so easy to just forget about her. The bad things and the good things, I just stopped caring about her. Stopped wondering what she was doing, if she was still with that guy, um…shit, see? I can't even remember that loser's name."

She beamed down at him. "Curling is kind of amazing, isn't it?" He nodded. "I guess that's probably why we've both put ourselves through all of this, huh? We're crazy about it."

"I'm crazy about you."

Sarah hadn't expected him to say that, and with so much earnestness in his voice. But her smile was immediate, and it reached every last bit of her soul.

Without saying another word, she wrapped an arm around him and burrowed against him, threading her legs with his, letting his sock-covered feet blanket her cold feet, and pressing her lips against his warm skin under his jaw. She fell asleep that way, pushing any and all other thoughts out of her mind, not wanting to overthink anything and instead just enjoy every last moment like this.

-oooo-

His partner took a deep breath beside him.

He sat on the bench with his elbows on his knees, head sagging so that his chin was against his chest. Just a few moments of peace, shared peace, between them before they would play what might be their last curling match of the Olympics—Or, if they won, the beginning of their fight to get a medal in the semifinals.

Chuck Bartowski wasn't stressed, however. They'd done something good here, so far. It would've been nice to get into the semis without having to play a tie breaker match. But that wasn't to be. China had won six games, lost three, just like they had. So here they were, and he felt all right. He felt good, actually.

And as he heard Sarah suck in another deep breath, letting it out slowly, he felt the back of her hand against his where it hung at his side. Her soft skin brushing against his, knuckles touching, and then the backs of her fingers stroked over his…oh so gently.

The door opened beside them then and her hand was gone.

He opened his eyes and sat up straight. _This is it…_

But when he turned, preparing to get up and follow the attendant, he was surprised to find Becks there instead and oh… _Uh oh…_

This wasn't the same happy Diane Beckman they'd seen in their apartment the night before, her smile so bright and proud, the trace of validation in her features.

Instead, something in her cheek was twitching, her eyes were narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, nostrils flaring, and her small body oh-so-tense under her Team U.S.A. Jacket and black slacks.

He had a feeling, and he could see by the look Sarah gave him that she had the same feeling…

"So I was putting my nightly face mask on—cold weather makes my skin dry!" she snapped, as though either of them'd had a mind to judge her for it. They did not. "And there was a knock on my door. 'Now, who could that be?' I wondered. I went to the door, my face covered in green gunk and a man who looked like he was made out of filet mignon was standing there with the most self-satisfied smirk on his face I'd ever seen in my life."

Chuck heard a soft choking sound next to him but he didn't dare look at Sarah. He couldn't. He'd absolutely lose his shit if he did. Followed directly by losing his actual life.

"Suffice to say, he looked absolutely terrified of the small green monster that answered the door…and when we got past that, he told me someone named Sarah Walker had told him she was staying in my room. I WONDER WHERE HE GOT THAT IDEA, SARAH WALKER." She spun to face Sarah only, leaning in and glaring.

Sarah was speechless. Or perhaps she was just afraid that if she tried to speak, it would come out as a laugh and then she'd never be able to stop…

"Why did you send Cole Barker to my door? What do I want with a beefy bobsledder who thinks he's some kind of sliding gift from the gods James Bond?"He glanced at Sarah finally and she winced, running her hands up and down the thighs of her pants.

"I'm sorry, Diane…"

"Coach Beckman. You don't get to use the name Diane today," Becks grumbled.

Chuck smashed his fist against his mouth to keep from giggling.

"Coach Beckman," Sarah said with another wince. "I really wasn't looking for more than a cup of hot cocoa and he was super pushy so I thought, you know, maybe he wasn't used to hearing no and I wouldn't be able to get rid of him, so I gave him what he wanted…"

" _My room number?_ "

"Uh…well…I'm pretty sure he wanted mine. But I gave him yours because…Okay, honestly, I thought it was really funny. I'm sorry. I really didn't think he was gonna do it."

"Well, you obviously charmed the pants off of 'im, didn't you?" the older woman snarked.

"The point really was that I was trying to avoid it getting that far."

Chuck finally let out a snort, turning his face and pretending to cough.

"Shut up, Bartowski."

"Yes, ma'am." He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat.

"I really am sorry. I hope it wasn't too terrible…" Sarah hugged herself and made a face. She seemed pretty sincere in her apology he thought. "I just didn't want that kind of distraction and, I dunno, he's not really my type."

He glanced at her again. Did she have a type? If Cole Barker didn't fit Sarah's type, did Chuck? Now wasn't the right time to spiral, though, so he shook that line of thought off.

"I don't care what your type is or who you choose to sleep with. Stop sending them to me."

Sarah pulled her lips in between her teeth and nodded with wide eyes. "Yes, Coach. I promise, he's the last one."

"Good."

Chuck cleared his throat again, then raised his hand tentatively. "Um, can I just ask something?"

"No," he heard Sarah whisper.

He ignored her.

"Did you invite him in, though?" His coach's hand whipped around and smacked him lightly in the side of the head before he could even blink. "Ah! Hey!"

Beckman walked to the door without another word, but then she stopped just before she went through and looked over her shoulder. She wore a small smirk and a raised eyebrow as she admitted, "Thought about it, though."

And then she was gone.

He couldn't see through the tears spilling out of his eyes as he laughed, leaning into Sarah as she pressed her face into his shoulder, shaking with laughter of her own. And it didn't stop, not until the attendant came in to take the two teams out onto the ice to start the match.

And even then, Chuck was full of mirth as he had his mic attached, still letting out soft snorts as he thought about the image of Beckman with green face cream all over her face opening the door to an egotistical Brit. And then he let out a soft titter when he imagined bobsled medalist Cole Barker strutting up to that door, one hundred percent certain he was getting lucky that night, only to find a small angry woman with a green face on the other side of the door.

Oh, God.

But curling. Curling was important. That was why he was here, in this game that was being televised for millions upon millions of people, not just in the U.S., but all across the world. And he needed to sober up.

Getting a subtle pinch on his arm from Sarah helped a bit as the first End finished. In spite of him still struggling to get over Beckman and her parting words, Team U.S.A. earned three points.

Sarah started the second End, delivering a lightly weighted rock into the house, to stop next to China's rock that was placed on the T-line at the start of the End. Li Wei Hu delivered China's first rock to slide to a stop as a corner guard.

Chuck scratched the back of his head and looked down at China's placed rock at the back of the four foot and sighed. "I'm gonna clog the center of the ice," he said. "Just keep pumping 'em in here."

"Mmm…I like that. Hide it all behind the guard. Make them chase us."

"Exactly."

Chuck and Team China's Zhang Jing Wang traded off delivering three rocks each, Chuck trying to pile their red rocks in the center, as close to the button as possible and Wang attempting to push China's yellow rocks into the mix.

By the time it was Sarah's turn to deliver their last rock, China's originally placed rock was untouched and they had one rock on the button, as well as one hiding behind the first guard they set up and one to the right side in the eight foot. Chuck had delivered all three of his rocks into the center to clog up the area around the button, which meant Team U.S.A. had four rocks in the house. The only problem was that China had that rock on the button and Sarah needed to find a way to take that out of contention, or China could get more than one point from the End.

"They're really good at this whole burying thing," Chuck said as he and Sarah looked down at the way things were stacking up, figuring out their strategy.

"So are you," she said. He felt something behind his belly button, a tightening sensation, and he bit his cheek to keep from showing anything on his face. Had she meant it in the way she said it? There was a slight smirk on her lips, but she was looking down at the rocks and he couldn't be sure. But that was almost too naughty. And out in the open like this? "This right here was perfect. If we can get the shooter to curl in through here and bump this one into their rock on the button, we can get it out of its current lying situation."

"Right, right…prevent them from getting two counters in there."

"Mhm. Yep."

"Actually, that might push our guy right here into position on the button."

"Oh, I like that. Let's get it into button position."

"My favorite position."

He felt her freeze next to him, but then she scooted away to take the shot.

_Seriously, Chuck?_

He inwardly groaned. At least Sarah's come on was subtle enough to go over everyone's heads. His was so blatant and he sounded like a middle schooler.

"Gimme my line, dude."

Chuck quickly flew into action, taking a moment to get his bearings, and then he set the brush of his broom for her. "How's that look?"

"It's good."

She shoved off and oh-so-gently let go of the rock, hurrying to her full height and following.

"I like the line," he said. "Weight only." Then a pause as he timed how long it would take to hit the other stone. "Go…go go! Hard!"

She scrubbed fast, then pulled it up just in time as the shooter hit one of their own rocks and caused it to bump China's lying rock out of contention. The shooter rolled out of contention to stop in the twelve foot ring, but the first rock she hit with her shot settled nice and nestled in the button. They were lying one, with China's yellow rock flanking it in second counting position.

_HOT_. It was so hot. The celebratory little leg lift plus fist pump she did as she slid down the ice towards him was even hotter.

"Nice shot, Walker."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," she said with a smile. And they awaited Hu's delivery of the second End's hammer.

It just barely avoided crashing on the original U.S.A. guard placed to start the End, and careened into a few of the rocks Chuck had stacked in the center, but in the end, Chuck and Sarah stole one point.

The third and fourth Ends were finished with two blanks, keeping the score at four points for U.S.A and none for China heading into halftime.

"Hey, so…remember that whole people aren't supposed to know you and I are…ya know…" Chuck murmured to her once they got into the prep room for a breather before the second half started up.

"What?" she asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

"Having sex," he hissed quietly.

"Nobody knows but us." She took a long drink from her water.

"Well, you're doing a bang up job keeping it that way—Yes, I realize I just said bang. Get your mind out of the gutter," he whispered as she got a certain glint in her eye.

"You went there. I didn't."

"Oh, really? 'Button position' ring any bells for ya?"

She gasped. "That was totally you. 'My favorite position'…Come on."

"Oh okay, then. What about the whole…bury conversation?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She practically had a halo over her head this time, and it was stupidly hot, this flirtatious game she was playing.

"Mhm…my compliment about how good they are at burying and you straight up said 'so are you' to me and if that isn't sexual innuendo, I don't know what is," he snarked, keeping his voice down as he smirked at her.

"And you say I need to get my head out of the gutter? But for the record, if I was alluding to…what you say I was alluding to…I wouldn't be wrong." Her blue eyes dragged up his entire body, from his feet all the way up to meet his gaze.

He had to take a deep breath, hearing a tight whimper in his throat. "You are so naughty today," he breathed. "What has gotten into Sarah Walker?"

"Chuck Bartowski."

His jaw fell open as she took yet another long drink from her water bottle. "Dear God, are you going to do this to me for the rest of this match? Please say no."

Sarah smirked, but he could see she was actually legitimately pleased, a real smile breaking through the smirk as she put one foot on the bench to retie her shoe. "You really want me to say no?"

He pouted a bit. "No."

She laughed then, tossing him his water. "Keep hydrated, Bartowski. You're gonna need it." And as she moved past him, he felt just the slightest of pinches on his backside through his pants and he jumped with a squeak.

He was in deep, deep trouble.

-oooo-

She was well aware of how evil she was for spending the last half of the tie breaker against China finding as many ways as she could to flirt and tease her teammate under the guise of curling jargon.

It hadn't distracted her from their game plan even a little bit. If anything, it'd been easier for her to focus somehow. And the warmth she got from looking down those one hundred and fifty feet of the ice sheet to meet his gaze while she posed at the hack with the rock in hand. He set her at ease, bolstered the confidence she already had in her ability to make her shot count.

She wanted to win, and she knew he wanted to win just as bad…and yet, there was this shameless playfulness in the last hour of the game.

Sarah covered it up well enough with professionalism, and Chuck was maybe having a bit of a harder time doing the same, but God, she was having so much fun.

And when China only got one point with the eighth End hammer, Team U.S.A. came away with nine points to China's six and a trip to the semifinals. She hadn't held back this time. After a few moments of professionalism, solemnly shaking Hu and Wang's hands as the Chinese team conceded the match, Sarah turned to Chuck and jumped at him.

He caught her easily as she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, laughing.

When he put her down a few moments later, they both stepped back, still laughing in excitement. Sarah clasped her hands together in front of her mouth and scrunched her shoulders up, letting out a long, "Ahhhhh!"

"Miss Walker…excuse me…"

She spun on her heels and saw an official standing there with the clipboard, a muted but amused smile on her face.

"Oh! Sorry!" She grabbed the pen and signed, shaking the woman's hand, and then she turned back to look at the fans who were still cheering, waving American flags, calling her name, calling Chuck's name. The rest of the curling team was there, too, right behind where Beckman and Graham sat at the coach's table.

Sarah raised her arms over her head in fists in celebration, seeing Chuck step up by her side and let out a "Semis, babyyyy!"

Was it entirely appropriate for curling? Probably not. But had they also been low-key flirting and hitting on one another for the entire Olympic curling match? Yes, they absolutely had. Not that anyone else could know that was what had been happening.

…She hoped.

Either way, they were going to the semifinals in Olympic mixed doubles curling, and they had until late afternoon the next day to rest, take in some more of the other events, including the men's final in halfpipe in which she hoped she would be watching the Flying Beard win a gold medal.

And as they walked into the tunnel to go back to the prep room, Chuck reached around her to put his hand on her opposite shoulder and he hugged her to his side. It was a perfectly affectionate, non-romantic gesture if anyone else saw it, but she felt the way his fingers squeezed her shoulder, and she knew the extent of what existed between them. Rather, she thought she did, in that moment.

She thought she did.


	11. Chapter 11

The snow had finally slowed down, but it was frigid at the Phoenix Snow Park. And Chuck Bartowski had frankly had it with the Southern-California-Boy teasing, as though he was the only one out here who was cold. It got to the point now that he was standing off to the side with a bit of a broody look on his face, hugging himself to ward off at least some of the biting weather.

At least there were less snowboarders in the men's halfpipe final than there were in the quarters which meant less standing around in twenty-five degrees, seventeen degrees with wind chill. He'd checked his phone just to make sure there was a reason for him freezing his ass off.

Sarah, Ellie, Awesome, Beckman, and Jane were huddled together talking about the snowboarder from South Korea who'd just gotten his first run's score, in the low eighties. They were all in high spirits and it made him even gloomier.

He wasn't trying to be a spoil sport, but his nerves were starting to get the best of him.

Morgan had just missed the podium four years ago in Sochi. He'd taken a fall in the landing of his last jump in his second run, and in his first run he hadn't scored high enough. Chuck then had the privilege of watching his best friend work ten times harder for the next four years, training, working out, building something of a brand and a fanbase with his Flying Beard persona in competitions and world events.

He wanted his friend on the podium this time. If he missed out again, Chuck knew Morgan would be even more disappointed than he'd been in Sochi.

Not to mention Bolonia Grimes' health didn't permit her to fly to South Korea to be here for him, and Chuck was tasked with documenting this event for her. He had her on FaceTime speed dial for when Morgan finished, and he knew it would be a rough talk if Morgan didn't place in the top three.

"Hey…"

He turned to see Ellie had sidled up next to him.

"Sup, sis." He slung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug, not just because he loved her but also because he'd take a little extra warmth where he could get it.

"Sup with you?" She was giving him one of her searching looks and he sighed.

"I'm just nervous for Morgan."

"Oh, okay. Well, of course you are. I thought you were seriously in a mood because Jane, Sarah, and Devon were ganging up on us for being Californian."

"Just because we're the only non-midwesterners. Like, I'm sorry if I like snow and also like the beach after to thaw off a bit." She snorted. "Fine, it did bother me a little. But it wouldn't normally, I'm just a bit…frayed right now. My nerves. Ya know?"

"I know." She wrapped an arm around his torso and cuddled his side, patting his chest. "But you need to have a little more faith in him."

"I have more faith in him than anyone else does. He's my beard."

There was a pause as they both realized how that sounded.

"Ya know, brother, that has a different meaning than I think you—"

"Yep!" he interrupted. "Heard it right after I said it."

Ellie giggled. And then she pulled away a bit and slapped him on the arm encouragingly. "You know how hard he's worked. You saw how chill and ready he was when we met up with him earlier."

"He's always chill and ready on the outside."

She raised an eyebrow. "We're talking about Morgan. Morgan Grimes. Morgan 'Actively Tries to Get Me to Date Him Even Though I'm Clearly Married Now' Grimes. Do you think there's anything inside of him that doesn't also show on the outside?"

They shared a laugh.

"Good point."

"He's got this. You text Bolonia yet?"

"Yep." He took his phone out and shook it at Ellie. "She's got the event on her TV right now and she's waiting with her phone for the FaceTime afterwards."

"That's gonna be a gold medal FaceTime."

"I hope so."

"Hey…" She knuckled him in the arm. "Don't doubt me and don't doubt the Flying Beard. He's an annoying pipsqueak but he's our annoying pipsqueak. He's got this."

He nodded. "You're right. I need to be as chill as he probably is up there." Then he looked down at his phone and pulled up Twitter, turning the phone to show Ellie. "So chill he's currently tweeting about grape soda."

"Did he seriously just tweet that?"

"He did."

"Oh my Godddddd, Morgannnnn." She groaned and walked away from him again as he chuckled, pocketing his phone again and following her a bit more slowly.

It was then that he felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and gaped immediately at the woman standing behind him, a tentative but happy look on her face. "Chuck?"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then regained a bit of his senses. "H-Hey! Hi!"

"Hannah," she said, gesturing to herself.

"No, I know! Hi! I just—I was surprised to see you—" he tried to explain, and she immediately went in for a tight hug, her lips pressed against his cheek. The hug lasted a little longer than was really necessary, he thought, but he was still a bit too startled to do much but accept it.

When she pulled back, he saw the vestiges of what they'd shared in Sochi in her face. And she slipped her gaze down him and back up to his face with no small amount of appreciation.

"Still just as lanky as you were back when you were a ski jumper?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. With lots of padding." He thumped his layers. "Heh. Yeah, I'm not a ski jumper anymore. I'm on the curling team now. So."

"I know," she said, shrugging. "Congrats. Not a lot of people can transition to a different sport in four years and make the Olympics both times." She made a face and shook her head. "Or…I didn't phrase that right. You get it." She laughed, a bit embarrassedly.

He chuckled and fixed his beanie a bit. "Still snowboarding?"

"Yeah. Yep, slopestyle in a few days. Thought I'd watch my bro Grimes and cheer him on."

"Nice of you."

Her smile became a bit more heated then and he squirmed subtly. "Well, I'm a pretty nice girl…Or have you forgotten in the last four years?"

"Hah…heh…I, uh… _ahem_ …"

Jane appeared at his elbow suddenly. "Morgan's first run is coming up in a few minutes, Chuck." Then she turned and fixed Hannah with a smile. "Oh. Hi. Sorry."

"It's okay." She stuck her hand out. "Hannah. Are you one of the curlers, too?"

"Jane." They shook hands. "And yes. Not on Chuck's team, though. Sarah is his partner." She seemed to make a point of gesturing to Sarah, even going so far as to say, "That gorgeous blonde standing over there. Not the tall, beefy one. The, uh, tall female one."

"Oh." Hannah raised her eyebrows. "Cool. Yeah, Sarah Walker. She used to be, um…Bryce Larkin's partner?"

"Weeelllll, she's my partner now. I replaced him. I mean, he left and they pulled me onto the mixed doubles team. He's basically irrelevant now, though. So…"

Hannah nodded. "Yeah, I'd prefer you over him any day."

In spite of how awkward it was seeing the woman he'd slept with the night of Sochi's closing ceremonies again—add to that the fact that she was absolutely flirting like no time had passed at all—Chuck had to smile at that. _Suck it, Bryce._

"I mean…I've never seen you do, uh, curling. But just…you know…out of the whole…curling outfit."

He widened his eyes at her.

"I mean, out of the curling…I didn't mean clothes outfit, but um…" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Like the group of curlers outfit type of outfit." She made an oops face at Chuck but he wasn't as amused, not with Jane standing right there and looking decidedly unamused.

He didn't really know why, though.

"Um, anyway, it was nice meeting you, Jane. I'll let you pay attention to Grimes' run since he's almost up. But maybe we can meet up later?"

"I…uh…"

"I'll find you after the event."

She waved at them and was gone.

Jane just grabbed his arm and pulled him back over to the group. He let out a long breath through pursed lips and furrowed his brow. Morgan didn't warn him that Hannah Yee was in PyeongChang. She'd told him she didn't think she'd be back in four years, that she was getting tired of the competitions and was thinking of quitting and here she was, still competing…in the Olympics, no less.

"Who is that?" Jane asked, pulling him down by his jacket so that she could speak softly.

"Who?" She glared. "Oh, her. Well, um…" Part of him wanted to say it was none of her business, but he liked Jane, in spite of her being a little nosy right at that moment. And he didn't want there to be a rift between them. She was his friend, and Sarah's best friend. "Okay, full disclosure, we had sort of a thing in Sochi four years ago. It ended when the event was over, we went our separate ways."

"Hm…" She looked over her shoulder in the direction Hannah had run off in and shrugged. "Didn't see you as the type who goes after snowboarders."

"I didn't _go after_ her. It was just a one night…Why am I even giving you details right now?"

"I'm a good listener," she chuckled, giving him a look.

His faux-glare was dubious.

Sarah grabbed his arm then. "Hey, Morgan's next!"

He turned back and nodded, exchanging a quick smile with her. And then she got a bit of a look on her face and glanced around him for a moment, then shifted her eyes to meet his again. "What's going on? Everything okay?"

"Pffft, yeah. Everything's good. Allll good. Pretty nervous for Morgs, though, we should definitely watch his first run." He cleared his throat and pointed towards the halfpipe, staring up at the small figure of Morgan Grimes up at the top, probably singing some sort of old standard by Bobby Darin or Perry Como. That was his thing during competition. _Luck be a ladyyy…_

"Oookay," he heard Sarah murmur, mostly to herself, before he saw her turn to watch Morgan in her peripheral.

He had a feeling they'd come back to the conversation later, though. Sarah didn't tend to let things go. _Oh boy._

-oooo-

The crowd absolutely erupted as Morgan Grimes burst out of the halfpipe and skidded his board around to flop onto his back and just lie there in the snow yelling, pumping his fists above him.

Sarah felt Chuck's arms wrap around her from the side and he hoisted her off the ground as she screamed in celebration, laughing as Chuck held her and jumped up and down. He nearly lost his grip, he was so crazed, and she had to smack a hand down onto the top of his head to hold on with a yelp.

When he put her down, she was surrounded in a mass hug, Devon, Ellie, Jane and Beckman closing her in on her other side so that her face was smashed against Chuck's chest. It was the perfect opportunity to wrap her arms around his torso and let herself just enjoy being close to him in public.

The most important thing was that Morgan Grimes had most likely just gotten a high enough score to take the gold medal in men's halfpipe. She knew nothing about the tricks, but he went incredibly high up in the air on each trick, did an insane amount of spins and flips, grabbed his board, and landed everything perfectly. No bobbling, no sitting down.

When they all stepped back, Sarah reluctantly released Chuck from her grip and looked up into his supremely happy face. He laughed, his eyes a bit misty, and she thought maybe her heart grew ten sizes in just that split moment before he blinked the mistiness away and spun on his heel to face his friend. He leaned half his body over the barrier. "Morgan! Buddy, get up! You gotta get your score still!"

Morgan sat up and unhooked his boots from the board, climbing to his feet and grabbing his board. He could only throw Chuck a thumbs up as he ambled over to the spot where the current top three were standing and awaiting his score.

They all put their arms around each other's shoulders and just stared at the scoreboard.

Sarah reached down to hold Chuck's hand to her left, and Beckman's to her right as they waited. It was taking too long. Had the judges seen something she hadn't seen?

"C'monnnn," she heard her partner chanting under his breath.

The score finally popped up on the board and they saw Morgan Grimes take that first place spot, beating out Australia's and Japan's snowboarders with a ninety-seven point seven five.

Sarah was immediately swept up in the celebration, everyone screaming, leaping in the air, whooping, hugging. Ellie even leapt onto Devon's back and screamed, "THAT'S RIGHT, FLYING BEARD!" in a show of support she never thought she'd see from Ellie Bartowski directed at Morgan Grimes. She'd seen all of the eye rolling and heard the multiple times she'd droned, "Go away, Morgan" and made _ugh_ sounds at him. She imagined that was a part of their decades-long history together. But this was adorable.

Even Beckman was wearing a beautifully happy and proud look on her face as she clapped.

Morgan finally scrambled over to the barrier and let Chuck envelop him first. "I DID IT, MAN! I GOT GOLD!"

"YOU GOT GOLD, BUDDY! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!"

When Chuck finally relinquished him, Devon dove in squeezing him so hard over the barrier that Morgan made a soft choking sound. Then Ellie hugged him and his face melted into supreme happiness and Beckman practically pushed Sarah out of the way to throw her arms around Morgan's neck, laughing.

Everyone chuckled at the wide-eyed, stunned look on Morgan's face. "And here I thought you hated me," he said as she let go of him and told him how proud she was of him.

"Oh, hush. I hate everybody."

They all laughed at that and Sarah finally stepped up and offered him her hand. "Well done, coach."

"Coach?"

"Yeah. I didn't tell you? I'm hiring you as my snowboard coach now. You did such an amazing job coaching me at first-person shooters that first day, I figured…" She let her voice die off and gave him a cute one-shoulder shrug.

"I ACCEPT!" he belted and instead of taking her hand, he pulled her in for a tight hug. She smacked a hard kiss against his cheek and pulled back to pat the other cheek with her hand. He staggered back a bit and put his gloved hand to the spot where she'd kissed him and then raised his arms over his head, yanking his helmet off and letting out a long, "WOOOOO!"

After a few quick interviews, Chuck finally managed to get Morgan's mom on his phone to FaceTime with Morgan. They let the bearded gold medalist hobble off to a place where he could at least talk to her semi-alone, because it was obvious the emotions were starting to get to him.

Everyone else had already left, but Chuck's phone was in Morgan's possession and Sarah opted to stay with him, standing at his side as his partner and…well, more than just his partner. He looked so incredibly happy and relieved, like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. It was so incredibly cute how important this event had been to him, how close he was with Morgan, with his sister and her husband, too. She'd felt the nervous tension in him the last few hours and she'd just wanted to comfort him.

Right now, she wished she could do something even as simple as holding his hand while they waited, but she couldn't. So instead, she just subtly watched him, admiring how nice his profile was as she leaned back against the railing.

But something changed in him suddenly. She saw a hint of recognition and then something else…discomfort? Fear?

She followed his gaze across the crowd that was starting to filter out of the place. There was the woman she'd seen approach Chuck earlier. She was pretty and she was smiling at Chuck invitingly. _That_ kind of invitation.

Sarah gawked at her for a moment then switched her gaze to Chuck. At least he wasn't smiling back. He looked like he might legitimately run in the other direction, actually.

And then the woman held up a finger, mouthed "just a sec" and turned to talk to someone else.

Sarah spun on Chuck immediately. "Okay, who is she? And you better tell me quick because she's about to come over here and I'd like to know what I'm dealing with beforehand."

"What you're dealing with?" he asked, his eyebrows popping. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "You don't have to deal with anything. It's not—"

"Chuck."

But then Morgan ambled up to them, still beaming. Just in time, she thought, clenching her teeth. "Here's your phone, man. God, thanks. It was so great talkin' to Mom, but that woman _can cry_. If they had an Olympic event for crying, she'd take gold." He nudged Chuck with a laugh and handed Chuck his phone. Then he turned to look over his shoulder. "Oh shit, yeah! Did you know Hannah was here? She totes asked me about ya this morning and I told her everything."

"Thanks, Morgan," Chuck drawled sarcastically through gritted teeth.

"Who is Hannah?" Sarah asked again.

"Oh ho ho! Remember how I said Chuck can pull?" He flicked his thumb over his shoulder. "Sochi. 2014. My brother and Hannah Yee. I introduced 'em. I should get credit, I think."

"Why don't ya just stick to the gold medal, loudmouth?" Chuck murmured, obviously perturbed.

Sarah tried to push down her own annoyance, but she wasn't going to make a big deal out of this the way she imagined Chuck feared she might.

And then Hannah closed the distance between them, her eyes never leaving Chuck once.

"Hi…"

"Hey, Hannah! How are ya? I just won a gold medal, no big deal," Morgan chirped, completely clueless. But Sarah felt a bit bad thinking that. How could the guy be anything else? She and Chuck hadn't told anyone about this extracurricular connection between them. For too many reasons.

And they weren't about to start anytime soon.

"Yeah, I saw! Congrats, Morgs!" She came up for a quick hug. "That was an epic double McTwist 1260, man! So sick!"

"A'thank you."

And then the awkward silence settled again and Sarah felt it best to interrupt it. "I'm Sarah. Sarah Walker. Chuck's mixed doubles partner. You, uh, you doing a snowboarding event?"

"Yeah, hi! Hannah Yee. I'm in slopestyle." They shook hands. "Chuck and I, uh, we go back to Sochi. Morgan introduced us." Her gaze swept back to Chuck. "Lucky me."

_Really?_ Sarah inwardly rolled her eyes.

"Heh. Yeah, well…uh…we've got, um, we've got the semis tomorrow. Sarah and I. We should probably head back, take a hot shower…s. Showers." Sarah inwardly rolled her eyes again. "And uh, get to bed. Gotta have my mind in tip top shape for the match. Ha ha." He tapped his temple and then folded his arms at his chest, looking insanely uncomfortable.

Sarah was mostly amused, but the more Hannah flashed her flirty gaze at him, the more Sarah saw the other woman essentially checking her man out even though he was wearing about ten layers under his Team U.S.A. snow coat, the more she felt the mean throb of jealousy in her chest. She felt the heat of it rising up from her scarf and coloring her face. She could always blame it on the cold if anyone noticed. That was, if she kept herself from grabbing the snowboarder by her scarf and strangling her with it.

"Oh, yeah, of course! I just wanted to make sure you didn't get away from me again…like you did in Sochi." She smirked, taking her cell phone out of her coat pocket.

"That was…definitely an agreed upon decision," he rushed out. He turned to Sarah and gave her a wide-eyed look that clearly said _help me_ and amusement dulled her jealousy a bit. "We both agreed to stop."

"Nevertheless, Morgan gave me your phone number if you wanna agree to start up again."

There was a loud ringing coming from Chuck's pocket. He took his phone out and looked down at it. "Oh. Let me guess. This is you."

"Yep." She giggled. "Hit me up after you two win your medal, huh?"

"Uhhh…"

"It was nice to meet you, Hannah," Sarah said quickly, managing to push down the jealousy by telling herself she was being silly. Again.

"Nice to meet you, too. Good luck. And I'm serious about that medal!" She pointed at Sarah, and then she switched her gaze and finger point to Chuck. "And you…I'm serious about wanting that phone call."

"Hah…I…" was all he seemed capable of before he turned on his heel and started trudging through the snow, away from the whole thing. Sarah and Morgan exchanged a look then scrambled after him.

"Dude, what's up with you? In Sochi you were way more suave and charming. Like…you formed actual sentences," Morgan said. "Man, this guy…lemme tell you, Sarah…"

"What if instead, Morgan, you go find your coaches and get ready for that medals ceremony?!" Chuck said, grinning excitedly.

"Dude! Yes! Good point! I gotta get my Soohorang stuffed animal!" He hugged them both, then scampered back over towards the crowd.

Chuck kept walking and she had to take hurried steps to keep up with him.

"So…are you more angry right now, or embarrassed?"

"Por que no los dos, Sarah?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Well, you didn't exactly stop her."

That made him stop walking and he turned to face her. "S-Stop her? Right in front of you and Morgan? That'd be so embarrassing and cruel."

"Well, you aren't going to start something up with her again like she thinks, are you?"

He huffed. "It wasn't as much of a something as everyone is making it out to be.""Oh?" He started walking again and she trotted after him. "What was it?"

"If you _must_ know, we'd flirted for a few days at Morgan's event, then after the closing ceremony, we slept together. We both agreed it was fun and not necessary to prolong things, and we went our separate ways. It really wasn't that huge of a deal."

"Oh." She shrugged. "Well, if it's just a sex thing, that's even better. Tell her you're a Catholic priest now and you're abstinent."

They both stopped and looked at each other. After a beat, they broke into laughter, leaning into each other and holding on to keep from falling over.

-oooo-

"Thirty!"

Chuck let go of the pull-up bar and landed on his feet, doing a few spry hops and clapping his hands together once, turning to face Sarah with his arms out, palms out. "I've been getting reeeeal good at these," he said to her, no trace of modesty in his tone.

She slow clapped, but he knew she wouldn't dare do anything else, considering there were other athletes in the gym using the other equipment. "I mean, I can't disagree with you. You're objectively really good at pull-ups."

"Thank you!" he chirped. "I've practiced a ridiculous amount."

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "I'm almost pissed you're as good as you are."

"Well, you can't be better than me at _everything_ , Walker." His answer and smirk coupled to make her laugh again. "And you're already better than me at most things." He smiled, a smile he reserved just for her, to let her know nothing about that fact upset him or made him resent her.

"I am not." She made a face at him but he could see her pleasure beneath the modesty.

"Uh. Okay. Agree to disagree," he snarked teasingly. "Bikes?"

"Lead the way, Shoulders Boy." She swept her arm out to the side, gesturing for him to lead the way towards the stationary bikes currently unoccupied.

He was already walking in that direction but he stopped and turned to face her, his features saying 'what the fuck' very clearly. "Shoulders Boy?"

Maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see, he thought to himself, but he wondered if that wasn't a blush on her face.

"What? All those pull-ups and push-ups you do, but the pull-ups especially, make your shoulders all…I dunno…" She bit her lip and her eyes dragged down to take in his shoulders before slipping back up to meet his gaze. "Broad."

He shut his mouth as two women strode past them, speaking to one another in German.

When they were out of earshot, he leaned close as he and Sarah stepped up to their respective bikes. "You checking out my shoulders these days, partner?"

She merely shrugged and stepped up onto the bike. He figured he wouldn't get more of an answer than that, so he snorted and climbed up onto his own bike, immediately starting to pedal fast, working on his breathing and looking up at the TV showing the ski jumping qualifiers. He ignored the chill that went down his spine and looked away. He wasn't letting it get to him. Not now.

It was then that he heard her voice rise above the whir of their bikes.

"These days," she chirped. "And before."

He felt his entire body jolt as the meaning hit him like a ton of bricks. His foot slipped off the pedal and he nearly got his shoelace caught on the spokes, but he yelped and lifted both feet, knowing how ridiculous he looked by how hard she laughed.

"You okay?" she asked through her laughter.

"You easily could have killed me. But yeah," he said in a flat voice. "Yeah, I'm fine." There was a pause as he put his feet back on the pedals that had slowed to a stop. He began pedaling again, but much slower now, just to be safe. "So…just to be clear, you were checking me out before…ya know…?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Um, using much vaguer words. You were super vague, hence why I asked for clarity."

She panted out a breathless giggle and beamed straight ahead. "Your broad shoulders aren't exactly new to me. Just _how_ broad, now that _was_ new to me."

"Jesus Christ," he breathed. "I—"

"Fancy meeting you two kids here!"

Chuck lifted his feet again and turned to look over his shoulder, startled that someone had been able to come up on them like that without him noticing. Granted, Sarah Walker had just admitted to him that she'd been checking him out for a while, before PyeongChang even? Dear God…

But Jane Bentley was here now, squirting water into her mouth and squeezing past their bikes to stand in front of the mixed doubles pair, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms. She had a bit of a shit-eating look on her face as she flicked her eyes back and forth between them.

"Thought it'd be best to get a bit of a workout in before tomorrow," Sarah explained.

"Ahhh."

That shit-eating grin hadn't subsided, and she looked like she had something on the tip of her tongue, something she wanted to say. He exchanged a quick look with Sarah, and he decided that maybe it was safer if he just didn't start pedaling again until he could trust both of these women not to drop bombshells.

"What's going on?" Sarah asked, then, and he was glad she'd been the one to ask.

And apparently Jane had been chewing at the bit to tell them, because she immediately sprang forward to put her hands on their machines, leaning close and lowering her voice so that even Sarah had to stop pedaling to hear. "How do you feel about mixing the Olympics with…dating?"

Chuck nearly swallowed his own tongue.

Thankfully Sarah jumped to the rescue. "Oh. Uh. Dunno. Why? I mean, we—I haven't thought about it much. Not at all, actually."

Both women were quiet for long enough that Chuck jumped a bit and noticed they were staring at him. "Oh! You asking me, too?" Jane gave him a look. "Oh. Er…I think it's perfectly fine."

"Yeah, Chuck apparently—what was the word Morgan used?— _pulled_ at the last Olympics."

"He exaggerated. It was one time!"

"Mhm, suuure…"

"Stop," Jane cut in. "I really don't need to hear about Chuck's sexploits."

"I don't wanna hear about 'em, either, if I'm bein' honest," he droned, bemused.

"Why you asking, though?" Sarah asked, apparently having had enough teasing him for the moment.

She gave them a bit of a wince, then smiled. "Well…"

Wait, was that a mischievous look on Jane's face? Did she know they were sleeping together? Panic cascaded through him. Had she seen something? Did she walk up in time to hear Sarah wax poetic about his broad shoulders?

"I was asked out on a date by a guy a few minutes ago. He spotted me on the weight bench…and then offered to, well, spot me on the weight bench." Chuck snorted a bit at that. "I don't usually like getting picked up at the gym but, I dunno, he did it in a way that wasn't gross. I can't explain it." She beamed, biting her bottom lip.

"Oooooo," Sarah sang, leaning down with her arms over the handlebars of the bike. "Score. He a coach or an athlete?"

"He's on the Swedish hockey team. He had this cute accent, talked about my guns." She rolled her eyes a little. "Dorky, but…I don't know, it was cute. Charming."

"Dorks can actually creep up on you with their cuteness and charm," Sarah said, and Chuck couldn't help wondering if she meant him. He wasn't above hubris.

"But it's not bad, is it? That I told him I'd go out on a date with him tomorrow night? I'm not gonna get some sort of distracted-at-Olympics curse or something and screw everything up for our team?" she asked.

Sarah shrugged. "No. You're fine. There's no rule against not enjoying the atmosphere and the, uh, well, other athletes while you're here. Did you see all the condoms they're handing out?" She widened her eyes at her friend and earned a scoff.

"Just don't marry him and move to Sweden until you know for sure that he's still got most of his teeth in his mouth," Chuck added."I'm going to come up there and beat your ass."

He laughed at his own glib comment and got a glare from both women, though Sarah's had quite a bit of amusement underneath it.

"Wait a second, what do you mean by a date?" Sarah asked, furrowing her brow. "Like…a _date_ date? Like dinner?"

Jane pulled her chin back and gave Sarah a bit of a confused look through her eyelashes. "Girl, has it really been that long since you went out on a proper date?" Then she frowned and shook her head. "Forget I asked."

Sarah looked a tad embarrassed.

"He wants to go out dancing. Got some recommendations from a local hockey fan."

"Dancing?" Sarah raised her eyebrows. "That sounds fun."

"Mhm." She was going to say something else but then her watch beeped. She turned it off and shrugged. "Have to get back and shower. Listen, I'll see you kids later."

Jane climbed up on a wheel a bit dangerously to half-hug Sarah, and as she walked past Chuck, she ruffled his hair. "See ya, nerd."

When she was gone, he turned to Sarah and shrugged at her. She gave him a closed-mouth smile that was a bit muted and went back to riding. He got a peculiar vibe from her, not a negative one, per se, but a vibe as though she was thinking about something. Rather than interrupt, he kept quiet, going back to pedaling.

-oooo-

Sarah pulled her hair up into a bun and stopped with her hands up above her head, just looking at her reflection in the mirror for a moment, before she lowered her arms to her sides again and huffed.

It was such a silly thing to be gloomy about. She shouldn't be gloomy in the first place, considering tomorrow was her first ever Olympic curling semifinal of her career. She was competing in the _Olympics_ and she needed to get her head on straight.

Then again, it was on straight, wasn't it? It was.

Thanks to her boycotting social media (except to post a few pictures, videos, updates about training, and thanking fans for their support after winning matches), Sarah had been able to avoid the multiple spirals she'd seen Chuck go through.

The guy couldn't stop looking at what people were saying about him. On the one hand, she thought maybe it was almost like a driving force for his success, working extra hard to prove them all wrong. But on the other hand, it really wasn't good for him to see the negative stuff people still said about him. She knew Bryce's commentary wasn't helping because she'd seen some of the things Bryce had written about Chuck's lack of experience, his rash and unpredictable decision-making. How "against all odds this American team is somehow pulling off a miracle, despite such a strange, off-the-cuff way of approaching the sport". It might have come off to those listening as a compliment, but it wasn't. She knew Bryce well enough to know his backhanded compliments when she heard them.

_Screw Bryce Larkin._

He didn't matter, though. Not really. She just wanted to focus on curling, and…well, at the moment, her focus was Chuck. The night before their semifinal match against the unbeaten Canadian team, she was stuck brooding over their chat with Jane.

It was immature, Sarah knew, but she couldn't help being envious. Jane was leaving the Olympic cluster to have a legitimate date with a Swedish hockey player and nobody would care about it. There wouldn't be Twitter threads about it. Nobody would dog her with cameras. She didn't have to worry about who did or didn't see her out having fun with…whatever guy.

She didn't begrudge Jane at all. She could see the genuine excitement in her friend's face, and she couldn't remember _ever_ seeing the woman be shy. Jane did everything with guns blazing—curling, her career, giving advice, dating. That tinge of a blush on her cheeks was so refreshing and heartwarming.

Still, Sarah envied Jane's chance to just spend one night enjoying herself out in public with a guy she liked without getting hounded. By everyone. This was a normal date, one that Sarah would love to be able to go on.

Unlike with their rule about not letting their attachment go further than admitting their romantic feelings during the flight to PyeongChang, Sarah knew they would be asking for trouble if anyone knew she and Chuck were doing more than just curling together. They could do this. They could handle keeping their romance behind closed doors. He was just as determined as she was about it. And it was even easier now that they'd allowed the romance to happen.

But she still felt a bit morose about not getting to go out on a date. And she felt ridiculous for it. It was silly. Because it wasn't like they'd never get to go on a date. They didn't have to continue this secret romance lifestyle when they got back to San Jose. There was just so much publicity surrounding them here. Back home, nobody would know who they were or even care.

There was a light knock on the half open bathroom door. "Hey, I left my lotion in there. Mind if I grab it?"

She smiled and pulled the door open. "Come on in."

He stood there with his eyes shut tight and she giggled when he peeked them open, one at a time once he saw she was dressed. As he passed behind her to snag his lotion, he muttered, "I'm just bein' polite."

"You've already seen me naked, Chuck."

"Yeah, but there's an important distinction there. You're actively allowing me to see you naked in that situation. It's an invitation."

She just smiled in the mirror at him, and couldn't help thinking about what it would be like to disappear into a crowd of couples on dark dance floor, dancing in his arms after a nice, low key dinner or something.

But he must have seen something in her face, a bit of wistfulness, maybe. Because he stopped behind her before he could duck back out of the bathroom, and he just looked at her in the mirror for a moment. "Somethin' wrong?" he finally asked, sidling up next to her.

She turned to look up at him and shook her head. "Nah."

"Nah?" He gave her a dubious look. "Whenever I say 'nah' it usually means 'yeah'. Just throwin' that out there."

Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed, pressing her shoulder into his arm and leaning her weight against him. "I'll keep that in mind. It's just a stupid thing. Almost embarrassing it's so stupid."

She walked out of the bathroom then, shrugging a button up over her tank top and buttoning the bottom few buttons as he followed. He plopped to sit on the end of his bed and patted the mattress next to him. "Tell me anyway."

Eyeing him a bit dryly, she still smirked and joined him on the bed.

"Jane is going out on a date—a real date—with that hockey player and I'm really glad for her. But it sounds so fun, too, and I'm maybe a little…jealous."

"I wasn't aware you had a thing for hockey players. You know, a lot of them don't have teeth."

"Shut up," she laughed, smacking him in the arm lightly. "You know what I mean." She sobered a little, trying not to sound as bashful as she suddenly felt. "It'd be really nice to just go out on the town and not worry about who sees us. You know? Just to have fun. And she's going dancing," she half-whined. "I want to dance."

He chuckled and draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her against him. "I wouldn't mind going out for a night of enjoyable date-like activities with you." He paused. "But I mean, if you found yourself a hockey player to go out dancing with, I'm not sure anybody would pay that much attention. They would if it was me. We've got shippers on the Internet now and they're reading into literally everything."

She ignored that last bit because people seriously creeped her out and she didn't even want to think about it.

"I don't want to find myself a hockey player to go out dancing with, Chuck. They don't have teeth." She found herself brimming with pride when he laughed hard at that. "I'm just kidding. But seriously, I just want to go have a dance with you, like when we had drinks with Sweden. People would've read into it big time if they'd seen us go out there on the dance floor together. Just one freaking dance and we'd see shit on social media about how we're picking out curtains. It sucks."

"It does suck," he said, but his voice still had an incredible amount of warmth in it, and strangely enough, it made her feel better.

"I can handle it, though. If it means no unnecessary distractions for the rest of the curling events, then this is a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

"Right, a little less of the tweets with the Bartowsker hashtag. I saw one that was a picture of me laughing across the ice with Kaarlo, but they said I was smiling at you. Like, it's madness."

She wrinkled her nose. "Jane showed me one of us high fiving and they said something like 'Can bae get pregnant from high fives?'" Chuck shivered dramatically. "I know. Gross. But, you know, as annoying as that is, it's at least not as annoying as Lawker. It isn't even an appropriate mash-up of the names Larkin and Walker. They spell it with an L-A-W in it. Idiots." He was looking at her a little funny. "I mean, obviously, the spelling isn't the most annoying part of it. Obviously. The fact that our relationship was under a public microscope was the worst part. So the sacrifice is worth it, in summation."

He chuckled again. "I can make the sacrifice, too."

"Good. As long we continue being on the same page, we're all good."

Chuck seemed like something else was on the tip of his tongue…But instead of saying it, he glanced at his watch. "Hey, not that I wanna get rid of you or anything, but aren't you meeting with Anna, Jane, and Lou in, like, ten minutes?"

"Shit, yeah. Thanks." She stood up and grabbed her jacket, shrugging it on and zipping it up, then she stepped into her sneakers and grabbed her phone and badge. "You know you're actually super excited to have some time to yourself for once, and you're going to read the crap out of your online comics."

He scoffed. "You make fun of me, but you still haven't even _tried_ to read one. Not even Red Sonja, and like I said before, you would love Red Sonja. Love. Her."

"I'm not reading a comic."

"Okay, but she lures the bandits who murder her family into the forest and kills them. Nothing cooler than that."

"Ain't gonna happen."

"It is gonna happen."

"No, it isn't," she called over her shoulder as she walked out of the bedroom and went to the door of the apartment.

"You'll seeeee—"

She shut the door, cutting him off as she laughed to herself. He was an idiot, and she wasn't able to catch herself before she thought, _my idiot_.

-oooo-

In spite of what his partner had teased him about before she went to her meeting with the rest of the U.S. women's curling team, Chuck Bartowski did not read his online comics while she was gone. He went down to the market to buy some bungeo-ppang and hot cocoa, stashed it away for later, and sat down at his laptop, listening to song after song, digging deep down into his extensive musical knowledge…

Because as much as Sarah dismissed her frustrations about not getting to go out dancing, he could see it was legitimately bothering her. Maybe she could handle it. He thought she could probably handle _anything_. But what if she didn't have to?

The least he could do was ease a bit of her frustration.

Or try.

Because he understood. It sucked that they couldn't pull back from this intense Olympic atmosphere, even for one night, and bury themselves in South Korean nightlife. Or even just go out for dinner. Something _fun_. Together. It didn't even have to _mean_ anything.

They couldn't do that, though. Because everything was too tied up in her and Bryce and the way they were marketed together for so long…

So he had another idea…

He didn't know when she'd get back from her meeting, but he made sure to make his playlist as quickly as possible.

So that by the time he heard the double beep of the apartment door being unlocked, he was ready with at least six songs. And he'd set the bungeo-ppang out on a plate—a cheap plastic plate, but it was the thought that counted. The hot cocoa, he'd re-warm in the microwave when the time came, but he set that out, too.

As he heard her shuffle into the apartment, Chuck grabbed his laptop and tucked it under his arm, heading out of the bedroom to meet her.

Sarah already stood at the coffee table between the TV and the couch, looking down at his presentation. She seriously was the most observant person he'd ever met. Her eyes must have found the bungeo-ppang the second she walked in.

She glanced up at him, the beginnings of a smile on her face as she pulled her badge off over her head and tossed it onto the nearby desk. "What's this?"

"Uh, bungeo-ppang. It came highly recommended from the guy running the market down in the lobby and it smelled amazing. And-And that's hot cocoa. From the same guy. I thought you'd like that." He watched as her smile grew. "How was your meeting?"

"Good." She shrugged, a delicious bit of mischief in her blue eyes. "We're going to win gold. That's the plan, anyway."

"You ladies needed…" He glanced at his watch. "Almost three hours to figure that out?"

"Lou brought her lucky cards and we played a few games of slapjack." She caught him studying her hands and made a face. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing how red the backs of your hands are." She raised an eyebrow. "You played slapjack," he explained with a shrug. And then he slapped down at the air.

"We don't slap _that_ hard."

"Oh, when I play with my friends, we do. If your hands don't sting for hours, you aren't doing it hard enough."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Men."

Then she giggled and shrugged her jacket off. "But, uh, Lou really fits in well with the team. She's nice. And pretty cool."

"She is! She actually told me she used to play poker professionally so it makes sense she'd carry cards around like that." He missed the searching look Sarah gave him through her eyelashes. "I like her a lot."

"Well, she likes you, too," Sarah muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

"Uh…okay." He cleared his throat and finally crossed the room to her side. "I, uh, I actually have something for you." Setting the laptop down on the coffee table, he opened it up and turned it so that she couldn't see the screen. He clicked on the Spotify playlist he took way too long to make—but he was a music connoisseur and he needed to pick the best songs he could find.

Nothing but the best for Sarah Walker.

He stood to his full height again and she gave him a questioning look.

"So…um…You know what? I always use words and then I ramble and spiral and say really stupid shit, so instead of doing that, I'm just gonna…" He knelt down and pressed play on the first song.

He was so ready…

And then an advertisement came on instead of the song and his whole body sagged, throwing Sarah the flattest look he was capable of.

She didn't seem to know what was going on but she laughed anyway, stepping out of her sneakers. "What are you doing?"

"Just…wait. Sorry. We just have to stand here awkwardly for a few minutes until the advertisements stop. Sorry." He inwardly rolled his eyes at himself. He easily could've just downloaded all of these songs and then there wouldn't be this stupid advertisement break.

But no, of course not. He was Chuck Bartowski and he obviously had to do things in the dumbest possible way.

The advertisements finally stopped, Sarah still just standing there, waiting, obviously biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing too hard at the situation. And as the crackly radio DJ's voice started, a smooth beat and sexy wah-wah underneath, Chuck quickly turned it up a bit and slowly moved to stop a few feet away from her.

_Like a rabbit in headlights_  
They're stunned by all your charm  
And I feel so damn lucky  
To have you on my arm 

He did a bit of a squirmy dance, gyrating his hips and pulling his hands towards his chest with his elbows out, snapping his fingers to the beat and smoldering at her. She giggled, her face immediately lighting up.

When the chorus dropped and the rest of the instruments joined in, Chuck let the synth hit him and he bobbed to the beat, closing the rest of the distance to her, grabbing her by the hand and gently pulling her into his chest, his arm around her waist, wordlessly inviting her in to dance with him.

_Yeah you can keep me warm on a cold night_  
Warm on a cold, cold night  
Yeah you can keep me warm on a cold night  
Warm on a cold, cold night 

The music slowed to a sexy softer rhythm again and he pressed his forehead against hers, letting her slip her hand from his and round his neck with her arms. As they met gazes, she sobered up a bit just stared, their bodies swaying and gyrating.

_I want to treat you something special_  
Give you what you deserve  
I want to take you to paradise  
In a 1950's Merc 

_And I can't help but wonder_  
Just how we ended up all right  
And I love you like no other  
And this has never felt so right 

Right before the chorus dropped back in, Chuck took Sarah's hand and held it above their heads, spinning her. As she crashed into his chest again, the beat dropped. They laughed together, and Chuck stepped back as the instrumental break played, doing more of his silly squirmy dance for her and mouthing the sexy wah-wah-wah sounds to make her laugh. He succeeded, then stepped back into her, wrapping her up in his arms and breathing the lyrics to the chorus into her hair: _You can keep me warm on a cold night. Warm on a cold, cold night._

Sarah turned her face to press her lips against his neck, and he felt her mouth stretch into a grin, her teeth grazing him and making him shiver in an incredibly pleasant way.

"What is all of this?" she asked as they continued to dance close together.

He pulled back to press his forehead against hers again, nuzzled her nose, and then tilted his head away to look in her eyes steadily. "I know you're disappointed we can't go dancing or have any fun together in public because our every move would be tracked and reported by anyone who sees us. So while this isn't a club per se, we _are_ dancing." He paused as he watched her blue eyes soften, realization starting a slow smile on her lips. "We're facing Canada in the semifinal tomorrow, and I know this is the Olympics but…" He shrugged. "I thought tonight we could just have fun. You seemed pretty taken with the idea of going dancing when Jane mentioned it so while I'm obviously not the best dancer, I thought this might at least be _somethin'_."

_Girl, you could have anyone_  
So why you choosing me and not leaving me on my own  
Girl, you could be with anyone  
So thanks for making me your number one 

"Think you can steal another board game from the lounge?" she asked, her voice quiet, her eyes still swimming with something he couldn't identify. Whatever it was, he knew it was something nice, something he liked.

"Well, I painstakingly picked out five other songs besides this one. When those are done, I'll gladly steal a board game for you." In fact, at this moment, with the way she was looking at him, the music hitting him right in the center of his chest, Chuck was sure he'd do literally anything for Sarah Walker.

She slid her hands to his shoulders and then stroked them up to his face, cupping his jaw. She looked him right in his brown eyes and smiled. "Thank you, Chuck. You really know how to make a girl melt."

Sarah kissed him then, oh so long and slow.

"Mhm…" He waited a beat, and in the same tone said, "Put her in a microwave."

Her laughter nearly drowned out the music, but Chuck held her close and danced with her anyway, feeling her hands slip underneath his t-shirt and feel his warm, bare skin.

_Yeah you can keep me warm on a cold night_  
Warm on a cold, cold night  
Yeah you can keep me warm on a cold night  
Warm on a cold, cold night 


	12. Chapter 12

"It's all right. Just pull it together, make those shots really count, and you can make a comeback," Coach Diane Beckman was saying, and even though Sarah Walker was listening, she was only half-listening.

Maybe the pebbles on the ice were different and it was affecting the roll of the rocks after bouncing. That was probably it.

Or maybe the South Koreans had hosting these Olympic games down to a science, and the pebbling was just fine, and the actual problem was their luck, or, more likely, they were putting too much weight into their throws. Nearly every roll had been too thick, none of their rocks stopping where they needed them to stop, and that had left the Canadians up six points to USA's one in the first four Ends.

Their chance at getting into the final match was slipping through their fingers and she was trying not to lose focus. The game wasn't over but it was hard not to let it get under her skin that they had gotten themselves into such a bad spot.

"Sarah."

She lifted her head from where it had slumped as she sat on the bench with her elbows propped on her thighs. Beckman knelt down in front of her and she met her gaze.

"Two years ago at that bonspiel in Oslo, the team was down by seven points in the sixth End. Jane and Alexandra were arguing. You were snapping at Alexandra for trying to take the game into her own hands and failing miserably. It was a damn mess. Remember that?" Sarah nodded. "You removed that woman's head from her own ass, though, forced the other girls to work as a team, and you threw the most majestic game I've ever seen in my life to come away with top prize in that tournament. I've never seen a team steal that many points in a row like that. Scoring nine points in four Ends…It was insane."

Sarah smirked a little. "You telling me to channel that Sarah now?"

Beckman shook her head. "I'm reminding you of what's possible, of what you're capable of."

"Yeah, but this isn't amateur hour. We're curling against the top mixed doubles team in the world, not a random Norwegian women's team from two years ago." She sent her coach a wry look.

"Hey, stop with the pessimism. Yeah, you're five points down. So suck it up and score some points in the next four Ends. Maybe you'll win, maybe you'll lose, but I'll be damned if my team doesn't at least try." She gave Sarah a hard look and earned a nod.

"You're right. It isn't like me to throw in the towel like this. Especially not so early. Sorry, coach."

"Don't apologize to me. I'm not your partner. Chuck is." The redhead gave her a significant look. "And I picked him to be your partner for a reason, remember."

Sarah flicked her gaze up to rest on Chuck as he conferred with Graham, probably talking angles or some other analysis. Because that was his thing, wasn't it? He didn't give up. He didn't throw in the towel. He was thinking, calculating, figuring out how to bring them back from the brink of defeat.

She smiled, then turned said smile to Becks. "I've been properly chastised. I'm gonna get my head in the game."

What she really needed to do was chill out. She'd never played a curling match at this high of a level and it was messing with her confidence and making her nervous. She needed to breathe and remember she was good at this sport, that she had the best partner she could ask for. And she needed to remember why she played this sport.

"Can I have a minute with Chuck?"

Beckman gave her knee a reassuring squeeze and stood to her full height, wandering over to Graham and Chuck, thumping Chuck on the back, and gesturing for Graham to leave the curlers alone for the last moments before they headed out onto the ice again for the second half.

Sarah curled her finger for Chuck to join her and she stood as he sidled up in front of her.

"When I was a little kid, my mom put me in ballet first. I was pretty good, had the perfect body structure for it, but I hated it. Then we did basketball because I was tall, but I hated how often the ball came flying at my face. I liked my face too much." She snorted. "Every sport I tried, I ended up not liking it for whatever reason." She shook her head. "But then my parents divorced and I chose to go with my dad to a totally new place on the other side of the country. I was maybe eight or nine, my dad left me at this ice rink with an old friend of his while he, um…" She halted for a moment, then tucked hair behind her ear and continued. "While he was on a job. And all we did all day was curl. I've never been a cryer, even as a kid I never threw tantrums, but I did that night when my dad took me away from that ice sheet. He had to forcibly pry the broom from my hand and throw me over his shoulder. He was not happy. To say the least. But curling just—It got inside of me. And I realized it was the first time I allowed myself to just have fun. Nobody was yelling at me to stand up straight, nobody was throwing things at my face or kicking me. There were no outside forces. Curling was about me, my own decisions, my own ideas, my own performance. I dictated what happened. Even on a team, I controlled _myself_."

She huffed and had to resist hooking her finger through the belt loop of his pants the way she wanted to. It was getting just a bit harder to keep the small intimate gestures to herself, things that would alert others to the fact that she and Chuck weren't just partners, or even just friends.

"For the past few years, I let myself be controlled by outside forces. The press, Bryce, public opinion, promotions, and sponsorships. And it didn't make me love what I do any less, but it—it's stifled me, I think. I honestly think it has. I need to find what originally made curling a part of me, why it's in my blood." She met his gaze that was so intent on her, and she felt he was listening to her almost eagerly. And she suddenly wondered at just how little he knew about her personal life, in spite of them living together for the past two months.

"Well…" He licked his lips slowly. "I'd like to help. What can I do?"

"I know that the next four Ends are extremely important. What we do will either send us to a final match for gold or silver, or to a consolation match for a bronze medal. This is really big, Chuck. But do you think you can push everything else away for the next hour, hour and a half? I mean, the Twitter stuff, the publicity, the Bryce thing…Everything else that isn't this game and what we do together. Even, um, even the thing that keeps happening with us behind closed doors. Can you put that aside? All of it? And just focus on curling?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I can." He paused, shifting his weight a bit. "As long as, um, as long as we can come back to it after…I mean, the thing…the last thing you just talked about."

Sarah beamed at him, melting just a little. "Oh, that's not going anywhere. We're definitely still doing that."

She wasn't sure anyone could stop them.

He grinned. "Good." Then he glanced over his shoulder as the attendant came into the room. "Go time. Let's do this."

**-oooo-**

He'd been so confident walking back out onto that ice, head held high in spite of being down by five points. And he'd curled his heart out. He'd felt that same energy from Sarah.

But there'd been too much ground to make up, and neither of them had seemed capable of the comeback necessary, even working together.

And so here they sat hours later, Chuck on his bed, Sarah on hers, the room silent. He felt how tense the air was. He'd told himself in the middle of the last End that in spite of the loss he saw coming, it wouldn't really matter for them. Maybe gold and silver wasn't meant to be, and that was okay, because they were still okay, and this thing between _them_ was still…

Well, whatever it was, it was still.

And he'd felt confident and okay with everything until they actually had to concede and shake the Canadians' hands. It was then that the almost debilitating disappointment hit him, and he and Sarah sat next to each other on the bench, not talking or sharing in their commiserations. Just wallowing in the same space.

Sarah had wrecked Team Canada with a filthy shot that stole four points in the fifth End, but all their opponents had to do was score three points to end up with nine, and Chuck and Sarah couldn't get enough to win with their six points total.

He felt the weight of it on his shoulders, though neither of them were solely to blame for the loss. Their shots were too thick in the first half and they just couldn't make up for it in the second.

It happened to the best teams.

But it sucked it happened to them, right then, on this stage, with the whole of America—the world even—watching.

He'd done something stupid during their quiet dinner alone—McDonald's at the table in their apartment, the one by the window so that they could look at the view of the mountains outside.

While Sarah had her phone out to probably text her mom, he'd pulled Twitter up. It was so stupid. A lot of "just what I expected would happen" hot takes, stuff about them not being the type of curlers who could ever get to the top at the highest level. One person had gotten hundreds of retweets and likes when she said that Sarah's career was fizzling without Bryce as her partner, and of course she'd added "Uggghhh but I love listening to Bryce's voice, tho. What a quandary!" With most responses agreeing—"If only he could curl with Sarah and commentate his own matches!"—and some saying it was less about the partner and more about Sarah losing confidence in her curling without her boyfriend as her partner. Only a handful told them to chill out, that this was the furthest a U.S. curling team had ever gotten in the Olympics. A few rabid "Bartowsker" supporters became even louder, in spite of the loss. It was a mess, and he eventually slammed his phone down to continue eating his damn fries.

The anger and annoyance had waned, and now he was left with thoughts not of curling, but of Sarah. They'd talked about how their connection wasn't just about curling, that it was about something more, that it was about them. Not making it into the final match sucked, but he knew that didn't mean she was done with him, with this…whatever it was.

That said, he hated the tension he felt, the look on her face when he peeked over at her. She sat with her legs pulled up against her chest, chin resting on her knees, and she just frowned into the corner. He could tell she was lost in her own thoughts, and he didn't mind the silences that sometimes fell between them, as long as they were comfortable. This one didn't feel comfortable. At least, not to him.

Sarah was upset, he knew. Not with him. And probably not even with herself. Just…upset. He understood that. He was also upset. Disappointed. Forlorn. All of that.

And the only way he knew to ease that was to deal with it, talk about it. It was what he and Ellie had done to deal with their parents, with each other, with other things that happened—his accident, his decision to quit skiing, Jill's betrayal.

He wanted to reassure Sarah, make her feel okay again.

So he turned from where he sat propped against the headboard of the bed, legs tucked under the covers, and he eyed her for a long moment, finally speaking up. "Hey…You doin' okay?"

She seemed to jump a little at the sound of his voice breaking the silence, but then she glanced over and gave him a small but genuine smile. "Yeeaaah, I'm okay. Just disappointed, you know?"

"Mm. Me, too." He paused. "We've lost before, but somehow this one feels worse."

"I'm glad it's not just me."

"Nah. It isn't." Taking a deep breath, he threw the covers off his legs and swung around to sit up, feet on the floor beside his bed as he peered over at her. "For a bit there, when you got those four points in the fifth End, I really thought we were gonna do it. Like, stereotypical sports movie miracle comeback."

She snorted softly. "Unfortunately, this isn't a movie."

"Nope. And we didn't win."

"Nope," she chirped, raising her eyebrows and smiling bitterly.

Chuck felt the need to be close to her then, touch her, have his arms around her. He'd gotten his hopes up and the loss felt worse because of it. And if he was honest with himself, he could use the comfort of having her arms around _him_. Or at the very least, he'd like to hold her hand, as cheesy as he felt for thinking that.

So he got up and crossed to her bed, sitting to face her and putting his hand on her calf, squeezing comfortingly. Neither of them said anything as she lifted her shy gaze up to meet his.

Then she blushed a little and looked apologetic, reluctant even. "Chuck, I-I'm sorry. You know I really enjoy it a lot when we…are together. But I'm just—I don't think I'm in the mood tonight. I'm bummed and I just don't…" She winced, putting her hand over his, apology all over her face. "I'm sorry. I hope that's okay."

He blinked in surprise, then cleared his throat and sat back. "No, I—Of course. Of course that's—I mean, it wasn't—Yeah no, I get it completely." He pulled his hand out from under hers and slowly rose to his feet beside her bed again. That hadn't been why he'd come to sit on her bed. Sex hadn't been anywhere close to the forefront of his mind. He just sought her presence, the comfort of having her near. He didn't need—and hadn't expected—sex.

"I'm sorry." She looked embarrassed, the air between them was awkward again, or maybe…more awkward. He was embarrassed now, too.

"No, don't be, Sarah. Please." He smiled and reached out for her hand, which she gave him willingly, smiling haltingly up at him.

But as he walked back to his bed, he realized her first thought when he came and sat next to her was that he was there to initiate that heat between them, seduce her maybe, so they'd end up tangled together under the covers again, like they'd done a number of times now. He'd only sought comfort, though…

And maybe that meant they weren't on the same page about what this was between them.

God, this was probably the worst possible timing. But he wanted to make things clear, once and for all. He didn't want to keep wondering if this was a relationship or just a physical thing. What did she want from him? What did he want from her? What were they doing here?

Because he'd sat down next to her wanting to reassure her, support her—all things you did for the person you were in a relationship with, he realized. But she'd thought he'd come to her for sex again. Was this mostly physical for her? He wouldn't blame her for feeling that way, considering how often they fell into bed together since that first time a few nights ago. The heat between them was immeasurable. And he felt electricity crashing through him when she touched him in those quiet moments, when they were alone.

But this felt like more to him. She was more to him than the sensations she made him feel when they were having sex. And he felt like she needed to know he felt that way.

So he stopped before he got to his bed and spun on his heel to face her again. "Sarah, I-I need you to know that I didn't just come over there because I wanted to have sex. I mean, I'm not saying I'd say no if it happened, but sex wasn't even on my mind. We just lost an important match and I sort of just wanted to comfort you." He furrowed his brow. "And, uh, I thought it'd be comforting for me, too."

Sarah's eyes widened a bit and she shifted to face him head on. "Oh."

That seemed to genuinely surprise her, and he tried not to let it bum him out. He just had to use his words and ask her bluntly and stop making assumptions about what she felt or what she thought.

"Sorry," she said. And he saw some of the tension ease out of her shoulders as she huffed and shook her head, smiling softly. "I misread. You can, um…You can sit here again. If you want." She winced.

Chuck gave his partner a crooked grin and then moved to sit next to her again. This time _she_ was the one who took his hand, and she even lifted their intertwined hands between them and bobbed her eyebrows as though to say, _See? Look what I just did._

He chuckled at her, shaking his head, insanely charmed by how cute she was sometimes. He wondered if this was something she let others see. Because before he became her partner, before the move to San Jose, she'd seemed a lot more straight-laced. Not that he'd had the opportunity to talk to her much then. She'd felt so…off-limits. A veteran, in a relationship with Bryce, another veteran.

Sarah laughed with him and he ducked his head, squeezing her hand.

He sobered a little then and carefully lifted his gaze to look at her through his eyelashes. "Sarah, I know this probably isn't the best time for this because we just lost our chance to get a gold medal a few hours ago and we're both pretty bummed about it…but, uh…um…"

"What is it?" she asked, tilting her head.

He shook his head then cleared his throat and nodded, making his mind up.

"We're having sex."

Her eyebrows nearly went up to her hairline. "That's…true."

"Well, it's great. I love it. I'd like to do more of it. Yeah…" She bit her bottom lip and smiled just slightly, obviously unsure of where he was going with this. He didn't blame her. "But I also want to know what your intentions are. With me." Chuck frowned deeply and shook his head. "God, I'm sorry. I sound like an angry weird nineteen-fifties dad talking to his daughter's prom date at the door." Bless her for laughing at that because he was struggling. "I'm so sorry. I just mean, what is this to you? I mean…us? What do you want from this? What do you want us to be?"

He let her take her time as she looked off to the side, mulling it over. He'd caught her off guard he knew, and he felt bad, but this felt like an important conversation that needed to be had before he accidentally got in too deep only to find out she was wading in shallow waters. Or something.

She finally spoke, her voice quiet and tentative.

"I thought we agreed we were going to do this behind doors."

"No, we did. We did."

"Because if people knew about us being more than partners—"

"That." He pointed at her, interrupting. "Right there. What does that mean to you? When you say we're more than partners?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm so not being clear. At all." He scooted closer to her and took her hand in both of his, leaning in and catching her blue eyes with his brown ones. "We've agreed it would be an insane distraction from curling if people besides us knew about it. I'm completely onboard. We have a medal to win tomorrow and your women's team has the tournament after that. Nobody can know about us. But I guess what I'm saying is that I-I'd like to know about us. What I mean is, I'd like to know what we are to you."

He cleared his throat when she just stared at him with wide eyes for a few moments."And I guess to expand on that, when all of this is over…the Olympics, I mean…what are your thoughts about us then? I know, on the plane you said one day at a time. But that was before we let ourselves have this. Before we slept together." Chuck huffed and hung his head. "This is a big conversation and I'm sure you don't want to have it after tonight. We can always put it off until—"

"No."

He blinked and looked at her with a "Hnn?"

"You're right. We shouldn't be putting this off. We've slept together and I-I told you that night after the first time it happened that this was different. I meant that. And there's a reason why I keep diving into bed with you over and over again. Besides that it feels really good," she flirted. He blushed. "I like being with you. Being around you. Spending time in the same place as you." She giggled and reached up with her free hand to play with the sleeve of the T-shirt he wore. "Look, I'm serious about keeping those social media fans of ours—and, uh, especially the non-fans—in the dark about this thing between us."

"Me, too." He shivered theatrically. "But you said 'this thing between us'. What is this thing? What do you want it to be? Honestly."

"Chuck, I wanna date you."

He felt like he was sitting on nothing at all. Air. Just air. He'd heard her right. She wanted to date him. He was speechless, because what could he say to that? She said it so quickly and so readily and were his ears ringing?

"What that's gonna look like once we get home from PyeongChang and we're back in our apartment in San Jose, I have no freaking clue. But I feel like that's something that…we can figure out." Sarah tilted her chin down and looked at him a bit shyly through her eyelashes.

"Oh my God and here I thought all you wanted was my body and my fresh curling skills," he let out in a quick rambled breath.

Sarah threw her head back with a laugh and climbed up onto her knees, crawling over to him and slipping her arms around his neck, leaning in for a slow kiss. He immediately slid his own arms around her and pulled her into his lap, kissing her back as she giggled against his lips.

When she pulled back, he let her see his slow, dreamy smile. But when he opened his eyes, she was frowning a little, her brow furrowed in question. "Wait, what did you think this was for me? Did you really think I was going to just drop you like a hot potato when we got back to San Jose?"

He blinked. "Um. No?"

"You did, didn't you?" She reared back, her jaw going slack.

"No, no…I didn't. Really. I just didn't make any assumptions at all. I didn't want to think it was one way and then find out it was another way and get…" His voice died as he searched for the word.

"Hurt?" She dropped her gaze to her lap. "I get that."

"I didn't want you to think I expected anything."

"Why shouldn't you expect something?"

He didn't know how to answer that, so he just blinked at her again.

Sarah crawled off of his lap, putting a bit of distance between them, and she just stared for a second. "Chuck, I told you this was different."

"Right, different from what you had with Bryce."

"No, just different. From everything." She nibbled on her lip. "This hasn't just been sex. You've felt that, right? If this was just about sex I never would have told you…" Sarah stopped herself and raised an eyebrow. "Anything."

Chuck scooted a bit closer. "I didn't think that. I just didn't know what it was. I'm sorry. I was just trying to be…I dunno, respectful of what you wanted."

"Jesus, Chuck! Do you ever think of yourself?"

"Um."

"Seriously. I appreciate that you respect me so much, but God, what do I have to do to make you understand that I want this to be a relationship?"

Chuck grinned, showing just about all of his teeth. "Well, um…That did it."

She giggled and looked at the ceiling for a moment, before lowering her gaze and sending him an amused and slightly self-deprecating look. "So what you're saying is…using words really helped, huh?" She rolled her eyes at herself. "I'm sorry. I don't communicate with words usually."

"You've said plenty to me. I mean, we have talked a lot. You told me—Oh, and that's exactly your point, isn't it? I'm so incredibly clueless, oh my God." He dropped his chin to his chest and groaned, thunking himself in the temple with the heel of his palm.

Sarah full on laughed and he felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him in so that he sort of fell against her, and she plopped back against her pillows, still holding onto him.

"So, to use more words," he said after a few moments of shared laughter, "since I feel like we need to just tie it with a bow…We're dating now. Right? You're my partner, roommate, and girlfriend?" He pulled back and sent her a hopeful look, hovering over her."Yeah." She shrugged one shoulder and smiled quietly. "But we need to keep all of this under wraps still. That hasn't changed."

But Chuck was already gone.

He flew to his feet beside the bed and leapt up into the air with his fists over his head. "Yesssssss! Ha ha haaaaaa!" He spun on his heel to face her again and beamed, pumping his fist again and doing a squirmy celebration dance.

Sarah laughed, pushing herself to sit up against the headboard. "Wow, way to play it cool, Bartowski," she said with teasing sarcasm, a massive smile on her face. He could easily read how pleased she was by his reaction, though, and he genuinely had no shame about it.

He continued doing more dances, then did a bit of a Muhammad Ali punch combo. "Girl, I'm not messing around with that play it cool bullshit. We're behind doors. I'm stoked and I don't care if you know it." He stopped and pointed towards the door then. "When we get out there, though, I'm gonna be cool. Super cool. The coolest. I promise. In here, I am your boyfriend. We are dating. We are in a relationship. And I have the biggest ego I've ever had ever in my whole life ever."

"Ever?" she teased.

"EVER." He did a hero pose then. "We're going to win tomorrow. You know how I know that?"

"How?" she giggled, and she truly looked like she was about to burst from happiness. It made him feel like he could fly right out of the window.

"We've put everything out on the table. All our feelings, what we want. And I feel so confident and free. You want me, which just…" He gave her a dreamy look instead of finishing his thought. "And I definitely want you. And we both want to win. And there's just no way Norway is going into that game feeling this damn good. MAN, I just wish I'd had the damn guts to come to you last night or earlier today and have this conversation. Because if I'd felt like this going into that semi, I would've whooped Canada so hard."Sarah raised an eyebrow and a sudden look came over her face. He didn't know much about Sarah Walker, top curler on the U.S. team. But he recognized that look. He'd seen it a few times before. The adrenaline of this whole last half hour or so of his life hit him like a ton of bricks so suddenly he nearly lost his footing and fell on his ass. But he held his ground and watched her as she climbed up onto her knees and put her hands on her hips. "You're that confident, huh?"

"Oh, yeah."

"I did that?"

"Yep."

She crooked her finger for him to come closer, smirking mischievously. "C'mere."

Chuck Bartowksi immediately complied, crawling back onto the bed and mimicking her pose on his knees, their chests just an inch or two apart.

"I really wanna make sure we win tomorrow," she said quietly, a serious look on her face. "Don't you?"

"Yes," he said with an emphatic nod.

"I feel it necessary to do whatever I can to give you as much confidence as possible going into it. I mean, I want to make sure you feel really good."

"I like that idea."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm…" He made a teasingly questioning face then, playing along. "How do you plan on accomplishing this, partner?"

"How do you think?" she asked in a flat voice.

'Uhhh…I can go…get the whiteboard."

"No."

"We can go over some strategy," he continued as though he hadn't heard her, still playing clueless.

"Mm mm."

"Watch some video footage."

"Absolutely not." She chuckled and went for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one, impressive movement as he was forced to lift his arms over his head. Her fingers made an appreciative pattern down his chest and abs as she bit her lip…a bit hungrily, he thought. And this was already getting off to a roaring start.

She grabbed him by his face and kissed him. Yep, there was the hunger. It lit a flame in his lower stomach and he kissed her back just as hungrily, whimpering when her fingers went straight for the drawstring of his pajama pants.

He broke the kiss. "I thought you said—oh wow you went right for it…" His eyelids fluttered as she touched him there. "Y-You said you didn't want sex tonight."

"I changed my mind."

Chuck squealed in surprise as she swung him around and slammed him onto his back on the mattress…kind of hard…swinging a leg over to straddle him and looking down at him with her hands on his shoulders, pinning him there. "Oh. I see. Well, I love to see a woman who knows what she wants."

Her giggle was almost predatory. "You haven't seen anything yet…"

She was right.

He really, really hadn't.

**-oooo-**

How many times was she going to be rudely awoken while she was here in PyeongChang for the Olympics? Sure, maybe sleeping in wasn't something an Olympic athlete should be doing while they were actually at the Olympics. There was always more training, working out, more training…

But damn it, between her coaches knocking on her door at the crack of dawn practically—okay, fine, eight o'clock—and people's phones buzzing and beeping…Or was that an alarm? It wasn't an alarm. They hadn't set an alarm…

"Why are you moving?" she grumbled as she felt Chuck's body shift against hers. He ignored her and she felt the cool air in the room sweep in between their bodies as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Chuuuuuck," she whined. "Unless it's eight PM and we're missing our bronze medal match, ignore whatever the hell that is."

He just chuckled, not getting out of bed like she feared he might. She cracked her eyes open and watched as he reached over to grab his cell phone and look at it. "Who's calling you at this ridiculously early hour?" she asked.

"Well, first of all, it's almost ten o'clock."

"Oh." She blinked. "Still."

"And secondly, I think this might be the number Hannah gave me." He winced, peeking at her with a careful look in his eyes.

She was awake.

"Why the hell is she calling you the morning of your bronze medal match? Is she on something?" Then she frowned as she realized exactly what the snowboarder was on. The man currently still half on top of her, wearing nothing but boxers. Her frown deepened a bit. She couldn't help it.

"Should I answer it?" he asked, looking down at her, then back at the phone he held in his hand.

"You're asking _me_? You're on your own with this, buster. But just remember you're taken."

"Right, taken but not allowed to tell anyone that I'm taken so what do I do…?"

"Try something like 'I'm not interested'." She shrugged and made a 'duh!' face.

"That's mean! And what if she doesn't think that's a good enough excuse and keeps pursuing me?"

Sarah scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Welcome to my world." He sent her a questioning look and she smiled at how cute he was, patting him placatingly on his backside a few times. "Nothing. Just tell her you aren't interested, but in a nice way."

"Too late, it went to voicemail." He sounded relieved.

"Well, you can't avoid her forever."

"Easy for you to say, you don't have someone knocking at your door for a booty call," he said, a small amount of genuine frustration in his voice as he set his phone down again and lowered himself back to the mattress, his head on her pillow.

She snorted. "Yeah, because I gave him Beckman's room number."That got Chuck to laugh. "Oh, yeah! Maybe I can send her to Graham." Then he shivered. "Nah, she's a nice person. And she doesn't mean any harm. We slept together last time and it's pretty fair for her to think we might do it again this time."

"But you're not going to." She lifted an eyebrow.

"Of course I'm not. That—That goes without saying, Sarah."

"Yeah, for us. But she might need you to say it."

His phone buzzed and made a soft beep sound. "That'll be her voicemail."

"Listen to it."

"I'll, uh…later."

All she had to do was give him a look and he groaned and rolled over to grab his phone again. "I'm not letting you hear it, though."

She giggled. "It's your message, I'm not gonna make you put it on speaker phone or anything." When he looked at her with a small smile, she sunk a bit deeper into the covers and smiled back. "Don't worry, Chuck. I'm not gonna be _that_ kind of girlfriend."

The smile on his face grew to goofy proportions and he sighed dreamily, making her laugh at his antics. "Sarah Walker, let me just tell you that you could literally be _any_ kind of girlfriend and I still will have scored _big time_ in the girlfriend department. BIG TIME," he emphasized again, rolling onto his back with that grin of his and just blinking at the ceiling.

She laughed again. "Listen to your message."

"Oh."

He pulled it up and pressed his phone to his ear. She watched his profile closely as he listened, hearing the higher tones of a woman's voice, but not hearing what she was saying. She was sincere about what she'd told Chuck, though. It was his message, and even though she was his girlfriend, she had no business expecting him to let her hear it.

But then a wince came over his face and he groaned, pulling the phone away. "God, listen." He thrusted the phone at her.

"Oh. Okay. I, uh, I didn't think this was gonna be a thing but I'll listen if you want me to."

"I don't care," he groused, frowning.

She tried not to be too eager about pressing play and putting it to her ear to listen, because she did want to hear what the snowboarder wanted to say in the message. Chuck had more self-preservation than to let her listen if it was something bad, something…more private. Who knew what kind of person Hannah Yee was? Maybe she called men and said sex things into their phones. Everyone was different.

But this wasn't a sex thing, she realized as she listened. It was just a woman who'd had a great time four years ago and was wondering if he'd want to grab a bite to eat together or maybe drinks. She ended it with a good luck getting that bronze medal, and a promise not to bother him again until after his event was over.

She carefully set his phone on his chest.

"She does seem nice," Sarah said with a shrug.

"She is."

"And she seems legitimately interested and not just in sex."

He winced. "Gah, can you not?"

"Seriously?" she laughed. "After everything we've done to each other in this bed—and in that bed—oh, _and_ the shower—"

"I get it," he interrupted, completely deadpan. "I just mean it's…" He sighed. "It's weird talking about this with you after we just started, like, dating last night."

"Ummm…" She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure we've been dating since our wins against Russia and Finland, when we shagged each other mercilessly in your bed. You were just a little slow on the uptake." She beamed at him, sticking her tongue through her teeth.

'I—You—That—" He huffed. "Damn it, you're right. In my defense, though…"

"If you even say one thing about my being out of your league, even something barely related to that, I'll be pissed at you," Sarah interrupted, pointing at him. "Don't."

He shut his mouth and mimed zipping it.

"Good."

"All I'm saying is I didn't come here for that. I'm not in PyeongChang because I was super stoked to, for lack of a better phrase, get some hiney."

"Really?" She made a dubious face. "You couldn't come up with a better phrase than that?"

"Sh. I'm trying to be serious."

"You just said hiney, though, so how serious can you really be?"

"Stop being so cheeky," he said through clenched teeth, and she wasn't prepared to feel his fingers pinch her right on her backside over the cotton of her pajama pants. She jumped and gasped, looking down at him, half affronted and half amused. She couldn't believe he'd had the guts to do that.

She smiled and winced a little, easing herself against him and propping herself on her elbows on either side of him to look down into his face. "I woke up feeling a little mischievous. I'll try to dial it back. I promise."

"Nooo, I like that. Just like…table it for a second, and then you can bring it back. Yeaah. I like that idea…" He grinned, his nose wrinkling, and she giggled with a "Deal."

Chuck sobered a bit and slung and arm over her lower back. "I was in my early twenties when I went to Sochi, I didn't have a girlfriend, I was going to the Olympics, and I was bursting with ego. Not to mention, there's…I dunno, there's something about ski jump—the whole hurtling yourself off a ramp hundreds of feet in the air with nothin' but a skintight suit, skis, and a helmet—that makes you kind of, um, confident. That coupled with youth and immaturity…"

Sarah tried really hard not to let her amusement show, but he really was so adorable. She looked him up when he was first picked to be her partner and discovered that he'd graduated from Stanford only five years earlier, which made him twenty-seven now, and twenty-three in Sochi. He was really overselling the whole immaturity thing but she was letting it slide.

"My event took precedence, obviously, but it was only the one event, so I also came to the Olympics thinking, I dunno, maybe I might have sex. It was something the guys talked about. I mean, and girls, too. Guys and girls. And it was talked about a lot, so…" He shrugged.

"You went to Sochi to jump and to get laid."

He laughed and rolled his eyes. "A'right fine. Jesus, woman."She giggled. "It's okay. Jane's, like, a few years shy of forty and she's apparently not above the whole getting laid at the Olympics thing."

"But that's the thing," he said, pushing himself up to lean a little more against the headboard. She followed him and continued cuddling, liking the pattern he was making with his fingers under her shirt and along her hip. She sighed when he got right back to it. "I didn't come to PyeongChang for that. I came to curl."

She bit her lip in amusement.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm being serious. No mischief."

"Tell me." He bumped her with his hip, his amber-colored eyes sparkling a little.

"I came to curl," she snarled. "It struck me as really funny at that moment."

He chuckled. "What? I really did come to curl! I came here for curling," he said, phrasing it a lot better this time, she thought. "And I came for you. To help you. For me. To prove myself. And mostly I came for us. I feel like we have a lot of naysayers and I came here to prove they're all wrong. And stupid."

She grinned, giggling through her nose. "Well said."

"Thank you. So yeah, I'm not here to get laid, not even as a second priority. Or third. It wasn't even on the docket, to be honest with you."

"Mmm, but laid you were," she pronounced in her best English fanfare.

He broke down in a giggle-fit and she just watched, enjoying it so damn much. When he sobered up, he shook his head. "This was not how I expected this to turn out."

She raised her eyebrows. "Me, neither. But you aren't gonna find me complaining about it."

"Uh, if I ever complain about this, take me to my sister. She's a neurosurgeon. She'll be able to tell you that my brain is broken."

She giggled. "Deal."

"The point is, Sarah, because I do have a point to all of this… I think she needs to know the truth and that is that I was different four years ago. I had different priorities. I was there for myself, to compete the best I could, see the town, get my kicks…"

"Pull," she interjected, making a fist and pulling her elbow back a few times, teasingly thrusting into him and biting her lip.

"OH MY GOD, STOP!" he cried out, laughing as he pushed her off of him. "Morgan is a great wingman, really, and that is why he lies about me _pulling_ but it's such a lie! I made out with, like, three women in Sochi. And then that one night with Hannah. That was _it_ , oh my God!"

She laughed and held up both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! You didn't pull! Got it!"

"Jesusss." He shook his head, still grinning as he plopped back down and accepted her back into his embrace. "This is different, Sarah. This feels more serious, like I have a lot more to gain and a lot more to lose. I don't want to sleep with anybody, I don't want sex."

"Could'a fooled me."

He sent her a warning look and she shrunk a bit, wincing.

"That's what I'll tell her. It'll be fine. She'll get that."

"There ya go. You gonna call her back?"

Chuck scoffed. "Ha. No. Not todaaay!"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Your funeral, funny guy."

"Hey."

"Oooh, sorry." She made an _oops_ face. "I know I'm being mischievous this morning but I honestly didn't do that one on purpose."

"I believe you," he said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion still. "But I do require you use one of those ways I told you about, you know, to make me like that nickname a lot better…Since we're here an' all."

A slow smirk grew over her face. "Is that so, Mister Didn't Come To PyeongChang To Get Laid?"

He just grinned at her, and there was something a bit naughty about that grin, about the sparkle in his eye, the way he bit his lip. Then he threw his weight to the side and turned them both over, pinning her to the bed.

"Way number one…" he growled, and he immediately disappeared beneath the sheets, sliding down her body.

Her eyes popped a few moments later. "Oh! …Funny guyyy…"


	13. Chapter 13

He wasn't prepared for the entirety of Morgan Grimes' bodyweight to land on his head and back as he walked into the Curling Center, and he nearly wasn't able to catch himself.

"Chuck, it's your time!"

"Jesus, man, I could've cracked my skull open!" he laughed, holding Morgan up against his side as the snowboarder clung to him like a bearded koala.

"It's your time, though, man! You're about to get a medal! Norway is going so down." He leapt off of Chuck and landed on his feet cleanly, clapping his hands. "You kids ready? I'm gonna be in the audience. Look at this sign I made."

Sarah sidled up next to them, having kept her distance at first, probably to keep from also getting jumped on, Chuck thought. And Morgan pulled a rolled up sign from inside of his jacket.

"Aw, shit. I crushed it a little when I tackled you. No biggie, though, no biggie…" He unfurled it and flashed it at them. "Ehhhh?"

Sarah leaned down with a frown. "Who run the world … Curls."

She stood up and smashed her hand against her mouth to keep from cackling.

Chuck just groaned. "Did you seriously just appropriate Beyoncé, dude?"

"Get it?" his best friend asked, apparently choosing to ignore that. "Curls. Like your hair, dude. But also because you are curling. It hit me last night when I was in bed, man, and I just had to write it down."

Sarah finally let a giggle come out, underscoring it with a cute snort. "I mean, _I_ like it. I especially like the stick figure with crazy hair. Is that me or my partner?" Chuck sent her a flat look. "Oh. Of course it's you. You're 'Curls'," she said with a straight face.

"Do you wanna be on it?" Morgan asked, and he immediately pulled a Sharpie out of his inner coat pocket. "I'm sorry! I totally didn't mean to leave you out of it, Sarah! Your hair isn't curly, ya know? So I didn't even think about it."

She laughed as he just straight-up dropped to his knees in the middle of a crowded lobby and spread the sign out on the floor, uncapping the Sharpie. "I'm using purple for you, Sarah, because it's a really enigmatic, royal color, and girl, you a hot mystery queen."

Sarah laughed even harder and Chuck just shook his head, chuckling as Morgan drew another stick figure holding a broom and with long hair. Reporters were taking pictures as they realized gold medalist Morgan Grimes, the Flying Beard, was on his hands and knees, drawing on a poster while the U.S. mixed doubles team were standing over him looking on. Chuck didn't even want to know what that headline would be. And honestly, he didn't care.

He couldn't let himself care about press, media, public perception, or even Twitter. Because this was the most important game of curling he would ever play in his life, and he was fully focused on that, and that alone.

He had scores to settle. Against every single person who doubted him, doubted Sarah, doubted them as a team. And Bryce. Always Bryce. Bryce was all three of those things, with the added annoyance of the jerk getting to voice his opinion to a live audience all across America.

"Chuck!"

He spun just in time to catch his brother-in-law who hurtled himself into his arms for the tightest hug he'd ever felt in his life. When Awesome stepped back, he held Chuck's arm in one hand and pointed in his face with the other. "You, my man, are about to get a bronze medal. I consulted my horoscope this AM, bro, and it told me that great things will happen today to the people I love. I love you, bro."

"I love you, too, Awesome. Thanks for that." He thumped Captain Awesome on his chest with a fist a few times. "Didn't realize you were into astrology. Huh."

"It's a new thing we're trying." Ellie pushed her husband to the side and brought Chuck in for a much warmer, less intense hug. "Couple's therapy." He gave her a look when they pulled back. "Oh. No, not that kind. We're not in trouble. It's just something we read on the Internet, something to help us connect with each other when we're apart, on the road for competitions and whatnot."

"Aw, damn. I thought maybe I could…ya know…be a shoulder, Ellie." Morgan staggered up to his feet and lifted his poster. "Uh, and Awesome. I'd be your shoulder, too, dude," he rushed out when the taller, more muscled man turned an unamused look on him.

Ellie made an annoyed "Ugghh" sound and moved to give Sarah a hug. "Good luck, Sarah."

"Oh, I don't need luck. I've got the best partner anyone could ask for." Chuck felt his heart beat faster as he turned his gaze to her and smiled. He saw the shit-eating grin too late. "Morgan's sign."

She laughed at the flat look he sent her, but Morgan was pleased, because it gave the gold medalist another reason to show off his sign. He presented it for the Awesomes to look at and got completely different reactions from them.

Ellie's was a highly dramatic, "Seriously? And I have to sit next to this?"

And Awesome's was a high five with, "Curls! Like Chuck's hair. And it also rhymes with girls! And they're curling! AWESOME!"

Chuck gestured to his brother-in-law for Sarah's benefit and she made an 'oooooh' face.

"Captain 'Awesome'," she said. "I totally get it now."

Chuck glanced at his watch. "Hey, we gotta get in there."

They thanked their cheer section and rushed through the side door, flashing their athlete badges, then hurried down the hallway to the prep room.

"Think Becks and Graham will show up to give us any last minute advice this time?" he asked, starting to tug his extra layers off as Sarah did the same next to him.

Sarah smiled a little crookedly, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it up. "No. I don't."

"No advice? We're about to play our last curling match in the Olympics as a coup—Nope, heard it as it was comin' out. But I caught it." He cleared his throat and lowered his voice as she gave him a wide-eyed look. "This is a huge deal."

"Not really." He raised an eyebrow at that and she chuckled quietly. "I mean, it is. It is a huge deal. By the end of the night, we could either be Olympic medalists, or we could…not be." She gave a one-shoulder shrug. "That's a big deal. But on the other hand, it's no different from any other curling match we've played. Our coaches are trusting we know what to do. And they're there for us if we need to consult, remember?"

"Man." He blew out a long breath and smoothed his hands down the pristine gray shirt with dark blue U.S.A. printed across the back of it and black hems on the shirt sleeves. Then he fixed the black collar, and checked to make sure his zipper was zipped…it was just a thing he did every game…it made sense, what with the millions of viewers watching on TV. He'd never hear the end of the memes if he was caught curling with his fly down.

"Do you sort of feel like your parents have taken the training wheels off the bike and pushed you down a super steep hill?" he asked her.

"No." She gave him a look.

"Oh. Good. Me, neither."

"Chuck…"

He turned to look at her and decided a bit distractedly that her eyes went super well with the grey of their uniform shirt. "Mhm?"

"Charles Irving Bartowski."

She got an unamused look for that, but he still felt the nerves messing with him. Why now? Why at this moment? When all day he was totally fine?

And then she had his face cupped in her hands, the gloves she wore scratching his cheeks a little, but still so reassuring and comforting all the same. They met eyes and she lowered her voice so only he could hear it.

"Don't freak out."

It was like she'd killed the nerves dead and they all tumbled down out of his body to land at his feet, nothing but ash now…dust.

"Thanks." He cleared his throat and gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists, reluctantly pulling her hands from his face. She cast her glance to the side, but the Norwegians hadn't seen anything, as engrossed as they were with their coaches. He reluctantly (again) let go of her wrists even, keeping his arms at his sides. "I'd say good luck out there, but what you do isn't luck. It's pure talent. So basically just…do what you always do, and we'll have ourselves a bronze medal in a few hours. Deal?"

She bit her lip. "Shit."

"What?" He frowned. "You forget somethin' at the apartment? Is it a lucky talisman I don't know about? I can call Casey back here and have him get it. Wasn't he, like, Black Ops or some shit twenty years ago? I bet he can get it real fast."

She snorted. "No, it's just…I really want to kiss you and I can't. So…shit."

Her pout was the cutest damn thing he'd ever seen.

"Oh. I getcha on that. Totally. Just, um, think about what I did to you this morning…should tide you over 'til later."

Sarah's eyes widened and she pursed her lips, twisting them to the side. "That's not a good idea. I don't want to be completely distracted from the bronze medal match I'm about to be playing in."

"See, what you just said right there? That's really good for my ego."

"Good. Hold onto that and curl like the confident curler I know you can be."

The attendant called them out then and they went to the tunnel, meeting the Norwegians there. They shook hands like old friends, but the moment they got out onto the ice, it was all business.

Well, mostly.

The first End was a blank as both teams were finding their footing in the match. It was in the second End, with Sarah having laid three counters, Team Norway with two biting the twelve foot ring at the front and the back respectively, that things got a little more relaxed, at least between Chuck and Sarah.

He was throwing the hammer for the second End. All he had to do was comfortably slide the shooter as close to the button as possible without knocking one of their own rocks out of counting position and they'd get four points.

He had to split two Norwegian guards, though. Right through the port. The guards were placed in just nasty enough of a spot, meant to minimize the number of lying stones Chuck and Sarah had, that it would be impossible to curl around.

"Damn, this is a narrow port," he breathed as he hunched over to look closely at the room he had to work with. "I think maybe there's an inch or two on either side. Barely. Tight squeeze."

"You're going to have to be really precise," Sarah said, kneeling down at his side and eyeing it for herself.

"I can do that."

"Yep. You can. You gonna try it? Or just try to curl it around these guards and hope?"

"Please," he scoffed. "Sarah, it's me. Of course I'm going through the port."

She gave him an amused look and shook her head.

"But I need you to have my six."

He slowly backed towards the hack as she sent him a confused look.

"My six o'clock?" he tried again. And then he stopped completely and gaped. "My back, Sarah. I need you to have my back." He shook his head in faux disappointment. "Have you never watched any cop shows, Walker?"

"Nope. Too busy training for the Olympics," she clapped back.

His jaw fell open and he grinned at her, sliding to the hack and grabbing their last rock. That was cheeky. And true. And even though he had an insanely tough shot to make, he let his mind settle on thoughts of all of the buddy cop television shows and movies he could show her when they got back to San Jose.

Chuck let out a long breath as he cast off from the hack, and the moment he let go of the rock, he felt it. Like the stone was speaking to him. The voice of some Scottish god in his ear (Did Scotland have gods? He didn't know.) telling him that bronze medal was his. Or something. The important thing was that he suddenly felt like this was it.

His rock was going exactly where he wanted it to.

He was very careful with the way he swept, listening to Sarah as she skipped, calling the line, telling him how hard to sweep.

And then he stopped as the rock neared the two guards it needed to go through, and he expelled a breath when it oh so gently eased past, just barely grazing. The audience let out a breathless, "Oh!" and he knew they were right there with him. The shooter eased in oh so slowly…and stilled right next to their rock on the button.

He mimicked shooting a bullseye with a bow and arrow, directed towards the button, and laughed as Sarah thumped him on the back with an open palm. Four points to Team U.S.A.

"You are crazy!" he thought he heard Becks' voice yell from her coaches' table.

He couldn't be sure, but it didn't matter because they had the next End to set up for.

They forced Norway to one point in the third End, the way Sarah was taking out Norway's rocks like she was a damn assassin or something.

And in the fourth End, Sarah had the hammer with a rock in third position, Norway with positions one and two.

"I have to do a double takeout, but they're in such terrible positions for that. I mean I'd have to hit them in some crazy spots to get the right bounce…Here maybe?" she asked, looking at him for his opinion.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Well, you can't use the roll of either of theirs to take the other out, so is there one of ours that makes it possible?"

"Oh. God, duh. Right." She scratched the back of her neck. "This one."

Chuck made a high-pitched, doubtful sound. "I dunno. That's rough."

"No, look. I've seen you make a shot like this before. Remember in San Jose? When we were drin—You know the one," she covered quickly. "You made a shot almost exactly like this. You hit your rock with just enough power to knock it into mine here, but at the perfect angle to send your shooter bouncing into my second rock here."

He knew exactly what she was talking about. He remembered it well and it was one of those moments that had genuinely cemented his feelings for her. It was way in the beginning, just a few nights after everyone had played drunk curling. He and Sarah had snuck in alone to learn a bit more about one another's curling game, and to just enjoy themselves. There'd been Jameson involved. And fig newtons, randomly. She'd mostly whooped his ass, and she'd had enough to drink to be all smirkish and flirty with him. But he hadn't learned as much about her personal life as he'd been secretly hoping he might.

And he had made a shot, a shot that had impressed her enough that she hadn't held back much. She'd yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK?" over and over, thrown her brush down, and jumped at him with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, and he'd been in freaking heaven, laughing at how dorky she was when she'd had enough to drink.

"A'right, do it," he said, lifting his confident gaze to her. She didn't look quite as confident, which wasn't all that in character for her. "Do it," he said again, and he made sure she could see just how sure he was that she _could_ do it.

She bit her lip and smirked. It was a similar smirk to the ones she'd given him that night over a month ago. Things were different now, though. He wasn't unsure of where he stood with her. He didn't feel like a burden to her success or her career. He didn't feel like he was less than the partner she'd had before him—the boyfriend she'd had before him. Sarah'd made sure of that, hadn't she?

And instead of putting a giggling, drunk Sarah Walker into her bed with a glass of water and aspirin on the nightstand next to her, oh so tenderly untying her favorite orange Converse low-tops and peeling them off of her feet before tucking her legs under the covers, the way he'd done back then, Chuck would be climbing into bed _with her_ , burrowing against her strong body. And damn, no matter what happened tonight, life was good, wasn't it?

He had to force his fist against his mouth to keep a satisfied, almost cocky grin from his face. It'd be misread as gloating, perhaps. And he never wanted to be that curler—the one unsportsmanlike asshole in a sport full of the nicest folks in any event, in any Olympic games. (Except for Bryce Larkin. Screw him.)

Sarah threw it perfectly.

"Line's good," he called, watching her skate alongside the rock. "Still good."

Then she bent over and cleared a bit of ice out of the way with her broom.

"Whoa!"

She stopped, and they both watched as everything went almost perfectly according to plan. The shooter rolled a bit further than she'd meant for it to, but it still counted. They came away with two, Sarah having taken out both of Norway's rocks.

**-oooo-**

"Sarah 'Hot Shot' Walker over here."

She slapped her hand over her partner's mouth the moment they got into the prep room. "Sh. No gloating," she whispered.

"They can't hear me," he whispered back. "They're arguing."

Sarah winced a bit and looked over to see that the engaged couple was, in fact, arguing. Again. She turned back to Chuck and took a drink of her water. "Well, no gloating amongst ourselves, either. It's bad joojoo."

"Yikes. Good point. All I'm sayin' is you are on actual fire out there, baby, and it's somethin' to see."

She felt herself blushing so she turned away from the other team, putting her back to them. _Baby?_ That was a new one. And she was almost annoyed at how much she found she liked it.

She sent him a warning look. He just shrugged in response, and she could see a bit of cockiness in the way he was standing, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, smile in his eyes.

"Hey, we're in the middle of a bronze medal match. Maybe chill with the cockiness, huh?" she breathed.

"We're winning six to one," he said quietly. "And wait, I thought you liked when I'm cocky."

She eyed him dryly. "Only because it's so rare. If it becomes a less rare thing with you, I can imagine it getting old real quick," she teased. She giggled when he wrinkled his nose and frowned. "It is kinda hot sometimes, though. But no cockiness right now," she said quickly, pointing at him an arching her eyebrow. "We have to focus on playing as well in the second half as we did in the first."

He nodded once. "You're right. No cockiness. Only focus." Chuck straightened up and grabbed his water, guzzling it and dabbing his face with a towel. "So you're throwing our first rock. Should we crowd the house? Like usual?"

"Yeah. I have a feeling they'll be setting up guards."

"You're right. Should I take 'em out or just keep piling as close to the button as possible?"

She huffed and scratched the back of her neck, gnawing on her lip a little. "Get as many in counting position as possible. Just go at the button and try to bury as much as you can."

"I like the way you think, Blondie."

"I know you do," she said, then she glared a little. "Wait a second, who gave you permission to call me Blondie?" She gave her voice a flirtatious lilt.

"Mmmm'nobody."

"Exactly."

By the time the fifth and sixth Ends were finished, they managed to keep Norway to one point, while they scored two of their own again.

Sarah's last shot was so slick—Chuck's words when he high-fived her—that the audience was swept up in a chant of "Walker! Walker! Walker!" she was pretty sure had been started by Tyler and Morgan, since they stood in the front, basically conducting it like two short, bearded Gustavo Dudamel's.

The seventh End was a complete flaming pile of garbage, however.

Once the chants died down, Aud Olsen found some sort of otherworldly strength to make every single shot of hers perfect. She took three of their rocks totally out of contention and put two of her own in counting positions one and two.

Sarah had the last shot for Team U.S.A., with Aud's fiancé, Erik, taking the hammer shot after her. The problem was that Aud had buried the two counters lying. And she'd buried them good.

"Crack it into this one with enough power and you might take 'em both out," Chuck offered.

"Can I get around all these landmines?" Sarah asked, gesturing to two guards Norway put on either side of the T-line, and the rock Chuck had landed at the front of the house, biting into the four foot ring, in counting position three. "I mean, we can get it to curl, but not this much. This needs some insane curl."

"Yeah, it does. But what else can we do? The button itself is basically buried and that'd be the only way for us to get a point besides trying to hit these out."

She sighed. "If I'm too thick or too thin with my delivery, I could crash on a guard."

"I personally think it's a risk we have to take."

It didn't sit well with her, but she also didn't see anything else they could do. So she finally nodded. "All right."

"We're trying to take out one and two?"

"Yeah. The button's just flat out impossible."

"Roger, Sarah."

The way he chuckled at that made her sniff in amusement as she traversed the long path back to the hack. They still had quite a bit of time on the clock for deliberation, so she used some of it up in preparation.

This was a seriously hard shot, not because she had to hit the opposing rock in the house just right, but because the guards were situated in such terrible positions for her and Chuck that Norway had basically stymied them.

But Chuck was right. All they could really do was try.

So she took one last deep breath and pushed off from the hack, and as she let go of the stone, she could immediately tell it just wasn't going to curl enough. _Shit!_

"Line!" Chuck tried.

She scrubbed to try to force it as far to the left as possible.

But as she pulled back, she watch as it crashed into the guard just enough so that the roll took it all the way past the end of the house, harmlessly passing by both of Norway's lying rocks.

"Sorry," Chuck said as she slid up next to him at the back of the house. "That was my call. I think anybody would've crashed there. We shouldn't have gone with that."

"No, it's okay," she reassured, switching her broom to her other hand so that she could cup his elbow reassuringly. "There wasn't anything else we could even do there."

She realized she kept her hand on him too long, but she'd needed the reassurance, too. And she thought he probably felt that, because even as she dropped her hand to her side, Chuck subtly moved in closer and stayed there as they watched Erik deliver his stone perfectly, getting Norway three points for the seventh End.

Going into the eighth End, as she watched the stones get positioned for Aud to make the first delivery, Team U.S.A. sat at eight points to Team Norway's five. But Chuck had the hammer. It would come down to how well she could set things up for him with her shots.

There was so much tension in the air, not between her and Chuck, but with their coaches, with the crowd behind them. As she glanced up she saw that Morgan wasn't even holding up his adorable but weird sign about Chuck's curls.

This was it.

No flirting, no cocky eyebrow waggles from Chuck, no funny business.

Especially considering the first thing Norway did was start piling rocks into the house. By the time they came to Sarah's last shot of the match, her last shot of the entire mixed doubles Olympic tournament, the placement of the rocks was making things look bleak. Sarah's guard hadn't done its job. Erik had curled right around it. And the only thing Aud would have to do after this, with Norway's last shot, was take out the U.S. rock near the button. Chuck would be put in an incredibly impossible situation. There was a way, here, for Norway to come from behind and steal the match for the bronze medal. Or at the very least, they could take the three points they'd need to tie it and send it into an extra End.

Sarah decided to slide her shooter into the house, hiding it behind a corner guard. That would at least set things up for Chuck if he was in a position to take out Norway's lying rocks.

It was an easy enough shot for Sarah, and she executed it perfectly.

She then watched as Aud tried to follow up her shot in exactly the way she'd thought she would, bumping the U.S. rock away from the button and out of counting position. The only problem was that Aud had hit their rock a bit on the thin side, and it stayed in the house.

Sarah put a hand on Chuck's lower back, too enveloped in how important this moment was for her career and for so many other things to care about how it looked. Things stood in a precarious position for them. Norway had three rocks lying. If Chuck missed this shot, Norway would tie the match and they'd have to play a ninth End.

However, Chuck and Sarah had a rock in fourth, fifth, and sixth position—one in the four foot ring, one at the back of the eight foot ring, and one just biting into the eight foot, the one Sarah'd just buried behind the corner guard off to the side. If Chuck could take at least one of Norway's rocks out of contention, they would still win eight to seven and have the medal.

"This one," Chuck said, point down at the Norwegian rock sitting in third position, closest to the front of the house.

"You mean take that one out? That could work."

"Yeah, but they'll still be stealing two points."

"We'll win."

"Yeah, I don't like it."

She didn't, either. And she spared a moment to wonder if Bryce was losing his mind right now in his cozy little booth, telling anyone watching this live that hubris and pride had no place on the curling ice. All Chuck had to do was remove one rock and they'd win. That was it.

"I can get all three maybe."

Sarah did a double take. "Chuck, number two is all the way over here…" She stepped over to the rock she was talking about and extended her broom out towards the guard lined up in front of it. "It's hiding perfectly behind that guard. You can't touch it."

"I can from this angle."

"You mean with the roll of this one?" she asked, pointing to the one Chuck had first set his sights on.

"Nope. The roll of this one. In first position."

He was insane. He was wonderful. He was insane and wonderful and she couldn't tell if she was made stupid by how crazy she was about him, or if he was basically the Stephen Hawking of curling, seeing things that no one else could see.

Either way, she nodded. "Okay, Bartowski. Show the world what you're made of."

She felt the heat of his gaze on the side of her face, and she was almost afraid to look. But then she finally did…and she was surprised to find she was still standing when he went off to the hack without her a moment later. Her apparent trust in him, the way she was giving him the opportunity to do this mad, almost entirely unnecessary thing—the last play of his 2018 Olympics career—had Chuck giving her a look like he wanted to devour her.

She had to take a deep, slow breath and focus on the fact that this was it. This was the shot. This was their last chance at the bronze medal.

And she knew the stress she was currently feeling didn't even have to be a thing. He just had to remove one damn rock for them to win. But he wasn't doing that. Because neither of them wanted to end their first Olympic tournament with Norway stealing points from them.

Was it pretentious? Maybe.

Was it stupid? She could imagine Beckman and Graham were probably gnawing on their notepads right now, ready to murder their mixed doubles team. She wasn't going to look to confirm.

This was crazy stupid and she knew it.

But the one thing she'd clung to throughout the nine regular games they played in this Olympic tournament, the tie-breaker, and the two finals, was just how fun curling was with Chuck. She'd always enjoyed curling. More than anything, it enriched her soul and gave her confidence to be out on the ice. But actually loosening up and challenging herself and allowing herself to have fun, make mistakes, take risks…That had never been a part of her curling life. Because no one had ever made her feel like that was open to her. Fun wasn't an option during professional bonspiels.

As a partner, Chuck had opened so many doors for her to do all of those things and more. Because she knew that no matter what happened, even if her coaches were yelling at her, the fans were pissed, Bryce was smack-talking her decisions on air…she never had to worry about Chuck. He was honest with her if she made mistakes, but he also got so revved up when she took risks, or when she agreed with him on risks he was taking. That insane shot he took in the first half, when she heard Beckman scream he was crazy from the coach's table, she'd backed it one hundred percent. And he did the same for her. And no matter what, they'd be okay.

This relationship was eclipsing the need to win, she suddenly realized. She was standing out here on the ice, waiting for Chuck to make a shot that might get them an Olympic bronze medal, and she was coming to terms with the fact that being with Chuck Bartowski on but mostly off the ice was more important than whether or not they won.

If he missed this shot somehow, they'd be a laughingstock. There would be a ninth End. Bryce would triumph over the situation. The naysayers would have a field day. The memes would explode. And she and Chuck would feel terrible. But this relationship wasn't going to suffer even a bit. She wouldn't let it, and she felt that he wouldn't, either. And that, to her, was so much more important than she'd ever thought something like this could be.

Nothing had ever bumped curling from her highest priority in her life. Not her job, not any boyfriend, not this attempted thawing of her relationship with her mom and the black hole of worry and unhappiness that was her relationship with her dad.

Until this.

She peered down the ice at Chuck as he pulled the last rock of the match over in front of the hacks.

He was such a huge nerd. He tucked his broom under his armpit and blew on his hands, rubbing them together like that made any difference, especially with the gloves he had on. And she wondered for a moment if he fancied himself some sort of superhero from his comics, the way he posed at the hack, his broom propped on his shoulder, feet spread, broad shoulders pulled back, and his spine straight and proud.

Just a few nights ago, they'd been lounging in bed and he'd grabbed one of the Olympic posters she'd bought, climbing up to stand over her and ruining it by accidentally shoving it up against the ceiling, yelling, "By the power of Grayskull! I have the power!" He'd bought her a new one the next day and kept the bent one for himself.

There was the random coding language that had come out of his mouth when she was blowing him in the shower. And his unabashed, shameless giggle fits when he thought something was funny enough.

She even valued his faults that had become the most apparent to her, his lack of self-esteem and constant comparing of himself to men who weren't worth it, his need to be liked by everyone and the fact that he checked up on it so often through social media.

He wasn't perfect, and God, she wasn't, either. But he'd made it pretty clear he was hers. No Hannah's and no Lou's were changing that. Not just because she wouldn't let them, but because he took the time to send her an extra wink down the ice before he climbed down into position.

They'd still be dating whether he made this shot or not, whether he got one point to win the game or allowed Norway to tie it up and force it into overtime.

But as he cast off and let go of the stone, the line was immediately beautiful, and she just knew…

Chuck Irving Bartowski wasn't missing this shot.

**-oooo-**

His shooter hit the Norway rock in third position a bit to the left from where he'd been aiming and he silently cursed. But then three veered just enough to the right to hit one, which slid into two, sending all three out of counting position. And the shooter slowly rolled to stay in the four foot ring.

The audience had gasped with every hit, and his heart lurched every time.

But once every stone stopped, with Sarah off to the side, guiding the Norway stones as far out as possible by sweeping in front of each of them, he counted four.

Four points.

He was an egotistical bastard for doing this, he knew. He knew it. But he'd had to know if he could. He had to know.

And he could. He did.

The weird silence in his mind had crowded out everything else. And it wasn't until Erik came up to him to shake his hand and give him a gruff one-armed hug that the roar of the crowd filled his ears. It was deafening as he hugged Erik back.

"You're a crazy bastard," the Norwegian said, patting the side of his face as they pulled out of the hug.

Chuck shook Aud's hand and accepted a hug and a congratulations, thanking her profusely.

And that was when Sarah Walker hit him in a running jump, her arms flying around his neck. He caught her and pulled her in for the most important hug of his life, shutting his eyes tightly and willing himself not to cry.

"We did it!" she yelled, laughing. "Oh my God!"

He just laughed with her, blinking hard to keep those tears from escaping, and when he managed to control himself, he pulled back and looked down into her face. "Teamwork makes the dream work."

She laughed and cupped his face.

God, for a second he thought she'd say, "fuck it" and kiss him. He was here for it. Here. For. It.

But then she stepped back, keeping hold of his hand as she laughed again, letting her head fall back.

They faced the crowd together and lifted their arms up over their heads.

He cast his eyes over every last face. Beckman and Graham were having a moment together, clinging and rocking back and forth laughing. And oh God, he had to look away because he saw tears on Becks' face and he couldn't see that right now. Morgan and Tyler didn't seem to care that the cheering men behind them dressed as shirtless vikings (…interesting) were quite possibly spilling beer near them if not actually on them, because they were losing their damn minds, thrashing around and screaming.

Ellie and Awesome were kissing. the rest of Team U.S.A. Curling was chanting, "BAR-TOW-SKER! BAR-TOW-SKER! BAR-TOW-SKER!" along with the insane fangirls around them.

Great.

He just exchanged a look with Sarah and laughed.

Sarah signed off on the win and the officials came over to congratulate them on their medal. The gold medal match was scheduled for the next morning, so any sort of ceremony or awards wouldn't be until after that, they were told, but Chuck didn't care. He couldn't hear anything. He was lost in a haze. He just kept repeating "Okay" and "Thank you" over and over.

They'd won the bronze medal in Olympic mixed doubles curling.

He followed the stream of officials and the Norway team through the tunnel and towards the prep room, still completely numb.

"Sarah! Chuck!"

He felt Sarah's hand on his arm and she tugged him away from the door that led into the prep room, towards Joe Samson of ESPN again. The man was waving them over.

_Oh, no._ He couldn't do this right now. He needed time to process.

"First Olympic medal in curling for the U.S. …How are you two feeling right now?" the well-intentioned man just doing his job exclaimed once he got them in front of his camera.

"I need time to process!" Chuck blurted. "I think I'm losing my mind!"Samson laughed and immediately switched his microphone to Sarah, obviously recognizing she was probably the safest person to talk to at the moment.

Sarah's grip tightened on his arm for a second and then she let go, beaming. "I honestly never even dared to dream I'd get here."

"You're here! And with a bronze medal!"

They all laughed.

"Yeah! I am! It's crazy!" Then she paused for a second and reached up to put a hand on Chuck's shoulder. He turned to look down at her profile as she seemed careful not to look back at him. "But at the same time, there was just this feeling I had through all of this, once we really started clicking on the ice and taking risks…I felt like we'd do well. I'm not saying a medal was ever something I believed possible in my wildest dreams."

"Yeah, not with such a _newb_ as a partner," Chuck joked. Sarah shook her head and laughed.

"For such a newb, Chuck, you made some pretty great shots out there."

"Thank you, Joe! No, I just…I really take a lot of risks. I don't know if everyone else heard it, but our coach kept screaming I was crazy whenever I decided to take those shots." He chuckled. "If you aren't giving your coach an aneurism, you aren't doin' it right, kids!"

Sarah clamped her hands over his mouth. "Oh my God. Do not listen to him!" she laughed, pushing Chuck off-camera teasingly. "We're just really happy making history for Team U.S.A. Curling is an under-represented sport in the States and hopefully this invigorates interest in it."

"I think you two have done some great things for the sport stateside. Everyone was watching. Congratulations on that bronze medal."

"Thank you!"

They were dragged into another interview, then another, and another. Until finally they were allowed to escape to the prep room. Team Norway was nowhere to be seen, having probably already packed up and left. But his much-needed alone time with the partner he'd just won an Olympic bronze medal with was postponed yet again when he saw Beckman and Graham were waiting for them.

Graham hugged him first, pulling back and putting his hands on Chuck's shoulders. "I'm proud of what you did here, son. You came through."

"There was no other choice, Sir. You took a huge risk on me."

"Diane took a risk on you. I just had to trust her. I'm glad I did." He hugged him again. And then he thumped him on the chest as he pulled back and went to gather Sarah up in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground as she laughed in surprise.

Chuck was still beaming at the sight when he felt Beckman's hands on his face. She immediately pulled him down and kissed him on both cheeks. Hard. And as he hunched down, looking at her with wide eyes, she pressed her lips together, another tear dripping down her cheek. _Oh no, ohhhh no…_

"Thank you," she said in her steady, confident tone. "Thank you for being the crazy, risk-taking, dependable, consistent, hard-working kid I thought you had the potential to be. You blew that potential out of the water, and you made me look pretty damn good in the meantime." She chuckled a bit wetly, and then she brought him in for a tight hug. He had to lean down pretty far to hug her back but he didn't care.

He just shut his eyes tightly and nodded, trying to keep his own tears at bay. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't. Morgan wasn't a blubbering mess when he stood on that podium accepting his gold medal, not even when he heard the anthem being blasted in his honor. He just stood there grinning.

_Channel the Beard chill_ , he told himself.

When they pulled back, Chuck heard Sarah's cell phone ring.

"That's probably your agent," Beckman said. "You're going to get interview requests, sponsorships, articles, photoshoots. Prepare yourselves."

Graham knuckled Chuck in the shoulder, then. "Bet you're going to get a lot of extra attention just on your own, kid. Anna and Tyler were really digging through that Bartrooskin hashtag on the Twitter."

"It's Bartosker," Becks corrected.

"Bartowsker," Sarah said, digging through her bag to find her phone. Then she looked up and blushed a little, going back to looking for the phone. She found it and cleared her throat, pulling the phone to her ear. "Hey, Z!"

"My point being that a lot of girls are suddenly pining for you, my man." Graham grinned and pointed at him.

"Pfffft, bandwagoners," he teased.

Sarah was suddenly in front of him, then, thrusting her phone towards him. "It's Zondra Rizzo, your agent. She wants to talk to you."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and cleared it. "Oh. Okay. Thank you, I'll just…heh…" He gestured off to the side as he took her phone from her and put a bit of distance between himself and his partner and coaches, lifting the phone to his ear.

"Miss Rizzo, hello."

"Zondra," she said, her voice flat.

"Z-Zondra, right. How are you?"

"Let's just get to why I wanted Sarah to put you on the phone, Bartowski."

"Chuck. You can call me…" There was a bit of a dangerous pause on the other end of the line and he cleared his throat. "Whatever you…want to…call me. Bartowski's fine. Or Chuck. Or Bartowski. Whatever."

"I've got two opportunities for you. One is a sponsorship—chocolate milk. You'd basically throw one of those stone things or whatever you kids do in that weird-ass sport, then you'd stand up and take a long drink of chocolate milk."

He paused. "Oh. But what if I'm lactose intolerant?"

"Are you?"

"No."

"Then why the hell are you even asking?"

"I dunno."

"Jesus. Let's move on. I have an offer from GQ. They want to do a two-page spread and photoshoot."

"Holy shit! Serious? GQ?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Uh…yes."

"I know you kids are all stuck on this partner thing, and I get that with sponsorships so the chocolate milk is probably out, but when a magazine like GQ wants to do an athlete profile, you say yes. That's my advice as your agent."

He glanced at Sarah who was talking in low tones with their coaches. As though she could feel his gaze on her, she flicked her eyes over to look at him and smiled with a little nod. Had Zondra told her already and Sarah was telling him to do it?

"Hey. Bartowski. Is that a yes to the chocolate milk and GQ or a no? I need an answer. I usually like to give clients some time to think about it, but these are time-sensitive offers."

"Oh. Shit. Yeah. Sorry. You were right about chocolate milk, that's gonna be a no from me. Sponsorships are for both of us, me and Sarah. We're a packaged d—"

"Yadda yadda, I got the spiel from Sar already. What about GQ?"

"I'll do it."

"Good choice. They're going to contact me again when you're back in LA, and I'll set it all up for you. Anyone tries to go straight to you without going through me, you better give them my card, Bartowski. Got it? This is my job. It's what I'm paid for. I'll take care of you kids."

"I really appreciate that a lot, Zondra. Really. I feel a lot bet—"

"Cool. Put Walker back on."

"Right cool great talk." He walked over and handed Sarah the phone.

She gave him a long look and then took it back, putting it to her ear. "Hey…Yeah, okay." There was a pause as she grinned. "Thank you, Z. Seriously."

By the time she hung up, Chuck had grabbed his own phone. His screen was full of tweets and text messages, most of them from his LA friends. Hannah sent him a "Congrats, handsome! Give me a call later tonight!" That wasn't something he was dealing with at the moment. Morgan sent him the gif of Kermit the frog yelling and thrashing his arms above his head in excitement. He opened his phone and locked it again to get rid of the notifications, deciding he'd look at them later.

"Everyone's meeting at a cocktail bar Morgan found the other night in a few hours, apparently," Sarah then announced, waggling her phone. "Did you get the text?"

Chuck looked down at his phone. "Oh. Probably." He slid it into his pocket with a shrug. He didn't want to go. He wanted some God damn alone time with his partner. With his _girlfriend_. They'd just won an Olympic medal, for goodness sake.

They pulled on their layers and went out with their coaches into the snow again. Thankfully there weren't any extra interviews in the lobby as they walked out, and they took the shuttle back to the village, Chuck and Sarah ending up sitting in seats away from one another.

In less than twenty four hours, he'd have a medal around his neck. He felt like his whole life had led him to this. Getting into ski jump, his road to Sochi, the crash at the worlds three years ago, his break-up with shitty Jill and his recuperation, that fateful trip to Chicago, seeing Sarah Walker for the first time…

He was liable to burst by the time Beckman and Graham were getting off of the elevator on their floor.

"See you at ten in the lobby?" Sarah called.

Beckman turned and huffed a bit. "This has been an emotionally draining day and I'm an old woman." She chuckled but then she got a sudden look on her face. It was almost scary, it was so severe. "You better not overdo it with the drinks, Walker. Tomorrow night is our last meeting before your first match with the girls the next morning."

"I wooooon't," she drawled, pouting.

"Good."

When they were left alone in the elevator, Chuck readjusted the strap of his bag and let out a long breath. They had just under three hours to properly soak this feeling in, settle, process…They weren't even getting their medals until tomorrow, right after Canada beat South Korea for the gold, because of course they were going to win.

Sarah seemed trapped in her own mind, so he didn't speak to her as they got out of the elevator and walked down the hall to their apartment. She got to the door first so she started digging for her key.

It took long enough that he just tugged his out of the side pocket of his bag. "Here, I got it."

She shifted out of the way with a soft "thanks" and he opened their door, holding it so that she could enter first.

The door shut behind them and he pulled his bag off, deciding not to even touch the stupid thing until the next day, then meticulously tugged and pulled at his layers until he was down to his uniform, Sarah doing the same beside him.

As he stepped out of his shoes and left them by the door, he walked further into the apartment and turned on a few more lights. "Man, is it just me or is the air, like… _different_ in this place? Like, there's a bronze medalist air to this apartment now. It just feels so different from how it felt a few hours ago—"

Chuck stopped as Sarah walked right up to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug. He hugged her back immediately, squeezing her to his front, turning his face into her hair as her own face was tucked into the crook of his neck.

"Thank you, Chuck."

He didn't say anything. He couldn't. He just shifted his hands against her body and squeezed even tighter.

"Just thank you," she whispered, and he heard a soft sniffle. "Thank you."

She pulled back and cupped his face. There were tears on her face and she just let them fall, not bothering to wipe them away. Instead she just looked at him and smiled.

"The day Bryce broke up with me, and when he told me he was quitting the team too, I spent hours feeling so helpless and heartbroken and scared. I just…I cried. I cried a lot. Because it hurt, being dumped by my boyfriend of the last few years. But the scariest thing was that this dream I'd been working towards, this Olympic dream that was so close I could reach out and touch it was suddenly gone." She sniffed and finally wiped at her cheeks hastily, putting her hands on his chest this time and stepping in a bit closer. "There was no way I was going to the Olympics for mixed doubles without a partner. I just knew that was it. My chance gone. Yeah, I'd go with the women's team, but mixed doubles has become my specialty, my thing, and to miss out on this tournament…" She shook her head and sniffled. "And when Graham told me they were replacing Bryce with you, I was just completely confused."

"That makes two of us," he breathed, making her chuckle.

"You really did come out of nowhere. And I just thought…how insane are they? Putting the new guy on the mixed doubles team. I was still sure it wasn't gonna work, that I'd still miss out on the mixed doubles event in the Olympics." She huffed and shook her head, looking up at him with enough awe that he felt breathless, like he'd better hang onto her tighter, else his legs might just stop working and he'd crumble to the ground. "You took everyone's expectations of you and just blew them out of the water." One of her cool hands slid up to the back of his neck where she massaged gently. His eyelids fluttered a bit. "You're extraordinary, Chuck Bartowski. And I don't think I could've dreamed up a better partner." She took a deep breath and the tears started coming again. "So thank you."

He leaned in and kissed her gently, cupping her jaw in one hand. Then he pulled back and smiled, his forehead against hers. "This was you. You put in the work. You did this."

"No, Chuck. No, it was us." He furrowed his brow as she sniffled and stroked her fingers down his jaw again. "I couldn't have done this without the tools you gave me. Maybe with Casey or Tyler—or Bryce even if all that break-up shit hadn't happened—we might've gotten pretty far. But you gave me so much confidence, you made me believe in myself, and you let me just…enjoy this. And actually have fun on the ice. And it just felt so different, and it felt so much easier to play the game the way I've always wanted to. We did this together. Your crazy brain and my talents. " She giggled wetly and leaned up to kiss him again, pulling back. "Thank you for helping me get here." She kissed him again. "Thank you for letting me be me." And another kiss, much longer this time. "Thank you for spending the next few hours celebrating with me, just the two of us in the privacy of this apartment, before we have to meet up with other people in public."

The kiss she planted on him then…

She opened her mouth against his and he groaned, meeting her tongue halfway and wrapping his arms tight about her torso, giving her a heady yank into his body and making her grin.

As she pulled back, lips still brushing his, he growled, drowning in the sound of her happy giggle. "Does that celebration include the bedroom?"

"It doesn't have to."

Her hands suddenly shoved at his chest and he yelped, feeling the backs of his knees crash into something. He fell backwards over the arm of the couch and landed on the cushions with a surprised grunt.

"Oh."


End file.
